Lettie
Jay might be ignoring my texts, but his mother doesn’t ignore the doorbell.
“Hi, Lettie,” Mandy Kumar says without much inflection. “Looking for Jay?”
Well, I’m not here for tea. I think it, but wisely don’t say it.
“Is he home?” I ask. I’m making a big show of being sweet and friendly. Don’t want Mom to think her dear son is in any danger.
“He’s downstairs,” she says, and steps aside to invite me in. There’s something icy in Mandy’s smile. I’ve got the sense I’m not the only one putting on a show.
“We had a lovely dinner with your mom and dad,” she tells me. “Such a great neighborhood, so many interesting people—and a very lively discussion.” Her eyes light up strangely.
I nod, not sure what else to say.
“Any plans for college?” she asks.
“Not yet,” I say. “Just getting my applications out now.”
“Well, good luck,” she says. “College is such an amazing time in your life. Treasure it.”
“I will,” I promise, not sure it’s one I can keep. It’s kind of a weird thing to say, too.
I certainly don’t share which schools I’ve applied to, or that my top choice is California. All this would open me up for more questions. California? Why so far from home? What do you plan to study? We might even get to talking about the high cost of higher education these days, and I could talk about how my dad wants me to go to UMass, but I’ll get loans even if I have to go against his wishes. All that’s just too much of an info dump for my current state of mind, which is bordering on murderous.
Mandy Kumar seems to sense my growing anxiety. She smiles tightly. Directs me to the basement, which I could have found on my own.
Down I go. There are no lights on, but there’s still a glow, like a TV in a dark room. Aside from a rich aroma of coffee, the air feels dank and stale. When I reach the bottom step, I see Jay seated in an office chair with his back turned to me. He’s got headphones on, so he doesn’t hear me descend. Probably didn’t hear me ring the doorbell, either.
Two simple wooden desks are pressed up against a concrete wall on which rest four brightly lit computer monitors. There’s a sizable rug beneath the desks, but it doesn’t give the space any real ambience. I see no file cabinets. No stacks of papers. Nothing on the walls. Everything Jay wants and needs must be contained within his twin computer towers, which buzz and hum like living beings.
A small table close to Jay holds a coffeemaker, one that can also brew espresso. A half-full pot of coffee is ready to pour, and that’s it for the office accoutrements. For some reason, I’d envisioned the lair of a future billionaire to be a bit more … luxurious.
“Jay,” I say sternly.
He doesn’t turn around, probably because he can’t hear me.
I tap him hard on the shoulder and say his name again, this time in a growl.
He turns, finally, and off come his headphones. Annoyance flashes in his eyes. I’m not sure if he’s angry at the interruption or my presence. I suspect it’s a combination of the two.
“Lettie,” he says, a bit drawn out. “What brings you here?”
A click of his mouse makes all his screens go dark, not that I could have understood the gibberish he was looking at. I catch a flash of that scorpion tattoo on his wrist. I looked it up online and learned that the scorpion is the symbol of the Egyptian goddess Selket, protector of the dead. I’ve been wondering if his tattoo has something to do with the tragic death of his younger brother. But now isn’t the time for sharing or caring.
I fold my arms across my chest. I’m worried I’ll hit him if I keep a hand free. Pissed as I am, I still pick up that special Jay scent I find so damn enticing.
“Why did you do it?” I ask.
“Do what?” says Jay, as if I’m a total idiot.
“A. Dumas? Count of Monte Cristo. Really? What the hell, Jay!”
Something of a smirk lifts the corners of his mouth. “What can I say? Your revenge plot inspired me.” I hear a note of pride.
That does it. I hit him in the shoulder with a closed fist and I don’t pull my punch, either. The contact is hard enough to send a jolt of pain down my arm.
“Ow! That hurts!” Jay rubs the spot where my blow landed. I’m regretting that he doesn’t have to rub his chin instead.
“Well, Dylan’s hurting, too, you asshole,” I snap. “Poor kid has barely come out of his room in a week.”
“He’ll get over it,” Jay answers. “Young love sucks.”
“No, you do, Jay,” I say. His aloofness doesn’t sit well with me. “You sent him that picture.”
“Because you asked me to,” he says.
That one gives me pause. “Um … explain to me how my telling you not to hurt Dylan shifts the blame over to me? Real curious to hear that one.”
I can’t believe I was ever hooked on this guy. Maybe I’m the asshole.
“You want to look up the definition of hurt, Lettie?” Jay answers. He’s not backing down. “I’ll help you out.” His hand goes to the mouse. A moment later he’s done a Google search for the word hurt.
“‘To be detrimental to,’” he reads. “‘To cause emotional pain or anguish to.’”
“What’s your point?” I ask.
“My point is you said not to hurt Dylan. I think his girlfriend running around behind his back with some other dude is a little bit harmful to his well-being, don’t you think?”
“I, um—” Shit. He’s got a point. “I mean yeah, it is, sure, but that’s not the issue here,” I manage.
Jay’s not done. “It’s the only issue,” he says.
“Well, you could have asked me.” Not my best comeback, but it’s all I’ve got.
“Why?” Jay asks. “You would have said no. You were all into revenge, and then you got soft for Riley. Those images would have hurt them both, so you’d have done nothing. I did you a favor. You should be thanking me, not yelling at me, not hitting me.”
“Thanking you? For Dylan locking himself in his room? Riley’s all freaked out. Willow and my aunt Emily are acting all weird around each other, sending each other halfhearted waves when I imagine Aunt Emily would rather give Willow the finger. You’ve made a mess of everyone’s lives, Jay! People I care about!”
Jay scoffs. “You were hurting those very people the second you knew facts you didn’t share. You were complicit through your silence, Lettie. I waited—waited for you to grow up and do the right thing, but as time went on it was clear to me you were going to bury this thing.
“If I wanted to hurt Dylan and Riley, you honestly think that’s what I’d have done? Sent him a photo? Hell, no. I’d have sent those anonymously to your whole damn school. And I could have done it, too—easily, at that. Now, that’s some serious humiliation right there. That’s taking revenge. So obviously I wasn’t trying to hurt anybody. I was doing what you should have done ages ago.
“Here you are, sitting on the evidence that could set things right, but no, you’d rather have your dear cousin who you claim to care soooo much about go on living like a total idiot. I did what you should have done from the start and saved him from a lot of needless suffering.”
I go quiet, turning inward. This isn’t what I had expected. I honestly thought I’d have Jay begging for forgiveness. Instead, I’m the one who feels like a jerk. How the hell did that happen?
“There are other ways to have gone about it,” I tell him, but I can’t think of any at the moment.
Jay calls my bluff with a hard stare.
“He’s a mess now,” I say. “And I feel totally responsible.”
“You’re the one who wanted to go digging for secrets, not me,” he says. “Sometimes, things are better left unknown. It’s never a problem then. Ignorance is bliss, right? It’s when you know things you shouldn’t that life gets complicated.”
I’m thinking I want to be ignorant about Jay Kumar. I wish he never moved here. I’m wishing I didn’t know him. Now I’m in deep. I’m responsible. If something happens to Dylan, if he does something stupid like try to track down Umbrella Man and things go haywire, get violent even, it’ll be my fault. What if he gets obsessive over Riley? What if he does something really crazy? It happens. Sometimes people hurt others because of what they can’t have.
All my thinking doesn’t change the fact that Jay’s made some good points. Dylan shouldn’t be in a relationship with someone who’s cheating on him. And what the hell am I doing helping Riley find her bio-dad anyway? Why did I suddenly develop a soft spot for my former tormentor? One fumbled kiss has turned me into a sucker, filled me up with empathy for other people, made me forget all the terrible things Riley’s done to me—and to Dylan.
I’m suddenly seeing life not in rich color, but in many shades of gray. Riley’s not all bad. She’s free to live and do as she pleases, even if that includes Umbrella Man. And Dylan has no rights to her. Nobody can control what another person does. Clearly, I can’t control Jay. But now that this is out in the open, maybe I can still set things right.
“What are you thinking?” asks Jay when I’ve gone silent long enough.
I’m thinking, I can fix this, but I don’t tell Jay that. I’ve just realized helping Riley track down her bio-dad has a hidden advantage for me. I have a chance to get even closer to her. And the closer I get to Riley, the more influence I’ll have over her. And maybe, just maybe, I can put everything back exactly the way it was before I got involved.
“Nothing,” I eventually say. “I’m not thinking a damn thing.”
Jay eyes me coolly.
“Don’t lie to me, Lettie. If there’s one person you can’t keep secrets from … it’s me.”
Memorial Day (Present Day)
Meadowbrook Online Community Page
Laura Ballwell
There’s always some sort of crisis on Alton Road. Remember over the winter—the ambulance on New Year’s Eve?
Henry St. John
I’m a volunteer firefighter. I won’t forget that night. You don’t forget something like that. Not ever.
Katherine Leavitt
Which house was that?
Reply from Laura Ballwell
I really shouldn’t say. Sorry!
Reply from Ed Callahan
Now you decide to have some decorum? You’re a true pillar of the community, Laura Ballwell!
Reply from Tom Beck
She’s just trying to help. Who kicked your cat, Ed Callahan?
Reply from Ed Callahan
Just calling it like I see it!
Janet Pinkham
I rode in the back of an ambulance once with my dad who was having chest pains. I thought the whole thing was very scary, but my cousin who’s an EMT was working that night. What are the chances? My dad is fine BTW, but he did need a stent put in.
Reply from Susanne Horton
OK, glad your dad is fine, but could you get more off topic??
Ross Weinbrenner
Those Altonites should have their own damn police and fire department IMHO. They had a town-funded police patrol last Halloween! More taxpayer money down the drain.
Reply from Joseani Wilkins
How about try thoughts and prayers, Ross Weinbrenner. Someone on that street is dead! Good gracious. You do know that you catch more flies with honey, right? And BTW, we pay for the police and fire department regardless how they spend their time. Get a clue and a grip, will you?!
Reply from Ross Weinbrenner
Joseani Wilkins I’m just saying there’s always something going wrong on Alton Road and we pay for it like it or not, that’s a fact. Even during the holidays, the most magical time of the year, those Altonites manage to bring out the worst in each other. Ho. Ho. Ho.