Chapter Four

Wade killed the headlights before pulling into the driveway at his house, hoping to delay anyone from noticing his arrival before he had a chance to collect himself. It was 7:45 p.m. All he wanted to do was go to sleep. But he knew that wouldn’t be happening. His phone had been blowing up the entire drive home, which led him to keep putting on the brakes. The Prius took the last available slot on the concrete. Everyone was there. There would be no peace.

Still, the young man took a breath, stepped out of the vehicle without regard for the mouth in the passenger seat, and went through his usual arrival routine.

The house on Sycamore was a split-level blue one with white shutters. His parents bought it about 12 years ago, getting it during a foreclosure auction. He’d had the same bedroom from the age of five until he brought his own child home last year. Then, his mom had the basement finished and moved him down there. That way, he and his girlfriend Jessa could take care of Lydie on their own. And, as a side benefit that she never expressly mentioned out loud to him, his own mom wouldn’t have to look at him as often. As he passed by the front of the house, though, she made an exception and pulled back the curtains. He glanced up at her. The look expressed her usual disappointment. Wade turned away from it, feeling dread.

He used to be able to come to his mom with any problem. They’d been especially tight since his dad died. But that hadn’t been the case since Jessa got pregnant. Wade had to be more selective, though their relationship seemed normal, even playful. He couldn’t tell his mother that most days he felt like dying, that he was trapped by circumstances that never entirely felt caused by his own choices. He couldn’t tell her anything troubling ever again. He’d lost that right. He couldn’t tell her anything about Dr. Emmett before, and he sure as hell wasn’t mentioning a damn thing about it now to anyone.

From the driveway, he walked around the front of the house toward the fence gate. He opened it, then walked along the stepping stones toward his own “front door,” leading into the basement. It wasn’t locked.

He turned the knob, pushed it slowly open and was immediately hit with a delightful sight. Jessa was dancing with their daughter in her arms to some girl power-ish pop song on the radio.

Seeing him, her green eyes widened, and she smiled. But there was concern in her tone. “We’ve been worried sick,” Jessa said, indicating the baby in her arms. “The heck have you been?”

“Practice,” Wade said.

“Which one?”

Just like everything else in his life, Wade couldn’t keep his lies straight.

Jessa wore a smirk, some faded blue jeans, and a T-shirt with a small floral pattern. It was sweet, a little country. With her strawberry blonde hair in a ponytail and a face decorated with freckles and sun, she looked very much like the girl he had passed notes with when he was 10. It was no mistake that she looked like Sissy Spacek in old movies. Jessa aspired to it. Jessa was a huge fan of old movies, and she loved Sissy Spacek movies where she was sweet and innocent one minute, murderous and cunning the next. Jessa always aspired to toughness. She wanted to be a badass, and, over the course of the past year, she had managed it.

When her preacher dad found out she was pregnant, Jessa told Wade that she needed a place to stay. She didn’t ask Wade if he wanted the baby, thinking of that as something he should’ve considered before they had any sort of sex at all. Before Lydie showed up, he resented it. He resented that life had to change so dramatically and so quickly. Wade wished he could only consider sex in terms of punishment, for it was far more grief than it was worth.

He and Jessa weren’t even dating when it happened. They were just, like, friends. They’d known each other for a long time but weren’t really close. Then, once, while he was having the worst day, she started talking to him at church about fried chicken. They sat next to each other in French class one semester and played Tic-Tac-Toe whenever the teacher went to smoke. As soon as Madame Lively headed for the door, Wade would turn toward Jessa’s notebooks and cross four lines in the corner of one of her pages. She’d roll her eyes at him. He knew she hated a ruined blank page. But she’d still put down an X every time. And they’d talk about movies. Or about their dads. Or about Wade’s bullies. Or just random gossip about which cheerleaders had drug problems.

But all the mistakes brought him Lydie. And nobody who knew her was angry about Lydie, not even his mother.

Jessa used to say that, if her parents would only just let their guard down and see their granddaughter, they’d feel blessed to love her. But Rev. Lancaster wouldn’t budge. Since he kicked Jessa out of the house, he wouldn’t even take her phone calls.

She would tell Wade that her dad cared more about his congregation and the gossip of little old ladies than he did about family. This surprised her. She always viewed her dad as this tower of strength, but towers fall.

Strong men fail. Weak boys fail. Jessa deserved better. Wade knew that.

Wade’s girls were so pretty, the family so beautiful. Wade was overwhelmed. He didn’t know what the hell he was doing tonight. Or with his cock. Or in his whole damn life. Wade started shaking, the tears hitting him with a shock. Jessa saw it, and he quickly tried to regain control of the feelings. There was no way to tell her anything. His life was much too fragile. He had to keep lying.

Jessa eyed him suspiciously.

“You OK? You seem a million miles away,” she asked.

“I’m sorry, I just—,” Wade said. “I was getting food after practice, and my phone died. I had to wait to charge it.”

Already, Jessa was on to the next thought.

“Can you take her?” Jessa asked, handing over Lydie. “My arms are tired. She’s getting so big.”

Not waiting to be handed, Lydie lunged with a smile toward her daddy. Wade caught her, thinking the girl fearless. He envied that boldness. Wade didn’t feel bold, not even when he clobbered a dentist over the head. In that moment, he was angry and desperate.

Wade looked to his girlfriend, held his daughter and tried to maintain his composure.

“Mom didn’t give you any grief, did she?” he asked.

“Only a little,” Jessa said. “You should’ve been here to grab Lydie sooner, like we talked about.”

“I know,” Wade grumbled.

Jessa’s pretty green eyes narrowed. Her tone of voice grew firm.

“No, I’m afraid that’s not good enough. I need you to more than ‘know.’ I need you to ‘do,’ Wade. Your mom needs it too. Lydie needs it.”

Wade glared at her, and her shine started to fade. No one was constant.

“And don’t whine,” Jessa said. “I don’t, so you can’t.”

Well, I don’t know about that, thought Wade. Jessa wasn’t perfect. She was guided by whims, most of which she picked up from off TV, and it had actually led them to their situation. But Betty probably said something to Jughead about “not whining” on tonight’s episode of “Riverdale” or whatever. So now he was getting lectured.

Jessa was like that, existing on a steady diet of teen drama and vampire romance. She suggested their casual hookup after spending a week binge-watching “The Vampire Diaries.” Her favorite characters were Klaus and Caroline.

“Everyone thinks we’re already doing it,” Jessa had told him that Friday night last March, whispering to him while he tried to watch some Billy Wilder movie she’d picked from his dad’s collection. “Don’t you kind of want to get virginity out of the way?”

“What?” he asked her. She’d come over to watch some old DVD every Friday for about a month. Wade would make microwave popcorn. They’d done two Hitchcock and a Robert Wise, and that night Jessa picked a murder mystery.

“People think we’re dating,” Jessa told him, causing him to glance away from Marlene Dietrich, whom Wade had never seen before.

“Who?” he snickered.

“People at school.”

“That’s weird,” he said. “I hear different gossip.”

Jessa didn’t let him finish the movie that night. Wade still didn’t know whodunit, besides them.

The baby fidgeted. Jessa excused herself to go do some homework, so Wade sat with the baby on their hand-me-down couch and flipped through the channels. His stomach growled.

He moved toward the kitchenette, putting Lydie on the floor at his feet. He searched the one cabinet.

“Hey Jessa? Do we have any chips or anything?”

“No,” she called from their bedroom. “I thought you ate already.”

Wade’s stomach remained empty, though his mind began to fill with worry. He needed to be better at covering his tracks. Though he’d never killed anyone before, he’d certainly seen enough episodes of “Murder, She Wrote” on the Hallmark Channel with his mom growing up. A plan would help.

Δ

At 9:47 p.m., according to their little white microwave, Wade headed up the basement stairs to try and raid his mother’s pantry. Lydie slept in her crib while Jessa typed some essay in their room, and he knew he’d have to embark on the guilt trip his mom had planned for him eventually. Might as well get it over with and get some Pringles or something, Wade reasoned.

The steps squeaked as he approached the basement door, and he knew his mother would be on him within minutes. He went to the pantry, sifted past some Lorna Doones toward the good Girl Scout stuff. He grabbed a box of Cheerios, as well, because he knew otherwise that she would ask if the cookies were all he was going to eat.

When he stepped out of the pantry, Mary was already surveying the choices in his arms.

“You’re gonna gain weight,” she said. “You shouldn’t be eating this late. It just stays on your stomach all night, and you never burn it off.”

“I could stand to gain some weight, don’t you think?”

“You could stand to gain some damn muscle, not a gut,” she said. “Just trust me on this.”

“I know, I know,” the son said to the mother. “You’re a professional.”

“Wade, I’m an LPN! You make it sound like I work for Weight Watchers.” His eyes widened over the shock of the idea.

“God forbid,” he said, opening the Thin Mints box and grabbing a whole sleeve. Then, he opened the sleeve, knowing he was antagonizing her while refusing to say anything. He slowly unpeeled the plastic, knowing the noise of it was just making his mom anxious. Within moments, she scoffed and headed to the fridge. Mary grabbed the milk.

“You cannot eat those cookies without milk, Wade!” she announced. “I raised you better than that.”

She poured him a full Solo cup, better for dipping, and passed it to him. “So, what’s been going on with you?”

Wade faltered and lied, “Just school, you know.”

“I don’t, actually,” Mary said. “That’s why I asked. We don’t talk as much as we used to.”

“It’s nothing, really,” Wade said. “Just trying to juggle all the stuff.”

Mary glared at her son, assuring he could feel the judgment. She let the silence hang in the air.

“Go on,” he said. “I know I screwed up tonight. You can just tell me.”

“I’m not supposed to be the one picking Lydie up from daycare, Wader,” she said, making the reprimand sound almost cute. “I have too much to do at the hospital. When my shift ends at 6, I just want to go home.”

“I know, Mom.”

“Knowing doesn’t seem to make you actually do the right things, Wade,” Mary said. “Instead of knowing something, do me a favor. Damn do something.”

“I lost track of time after school,” Wade said.

“Doing what?” she asked him.

Wade had no answer.

“Where were you, Wade? Hanging out with those kids at the store again?”

“I work there, Mom.”

“Yes,” she said. “And you shouldn’t be loitering outside of the grocery store, waiting to talk to bagboys or whatever, on a day when you’re not supposed to be there. It’s unprofessional. It’s irresponsible. And you have a daughter you’re supposed to be grabbing from daycare.”

“Mom...”

“Today was your day, Wade,” she said. “Today was YOUR day together.”

“I know.”

“I’m going to need you to step up. I feel like I’ve done a lot for you and Jessa and Lydie. You have your own space. You both were able to stay in school. You didn’t need to worry about daycare.”

“I know, Mom.”

“I don’t think I ask for much,” Mary said, returning the milk to the refrigerator.

“Of course, you don’t think that,” Wade muttered.

Mary glared at her son.

“You forget yourself,” she said. Then she sighed and walked away from him. “I need sleep. So, do you.”

And Wade tried to remember all the things he’d forgotten or lost today: his phone, his patience, his senses, his temper. His mind wandered to the false teeth in the front seat of his car. He considered going to get them, but his mom would notice his exit, maybe even follow him out the door to see if he was leaving again.

Unsure of the right course of action, Wade, perplexed, did nothing about the teeth. He crammed the cookie tube back into the box, returned it to the pantry, and went back downstairs to his bed.

When he entered his bedroom, Jessa was already under the covers. She eyed him expectantly, as though she were Veronica ready to pounce Archie Andrews.

He shook his head and said, “No, I’m spent.” He asked her to turn off the lamp. Then Wade tried his damnedest to actually sleep.