Mary told Charlie everything.
In October of 2014, her brother Brian was turning eighteen. She couldn’t believe it when he chose to spend his birthday on a double date with her and Tim. Brian was a kind older brother, if aloof, but they didn’t hang out socially. After all, he was a senior, a god on campus who already had a full ride to A&M to play football, after which he would join the Marines. She said yes in a heartbeat. That night, Brian drove, with his girlfriend, Tracy, next to him, and Mary and Tim in the back. Brian had supplied the alcohol, and she remembered all of them laughing about something when the headlights blinded her and everything went black.
Tracy died instantly. Brian would die two days later. Mary remembered hazy patches from the crash, her parents at the scene, and her dad’s lawyer, too, an important man talking in low tones with the policeman. And just like that, it all went away. The police report would reflect that the driver in the other vehicle had been intoxicated, above the legal limit. She never learned if that was true. He had died instantly, and his mother was an elderly woman who lived alone and had no resources to question anything. The police report declined to mention alcohol in the kids’ car, or underage drinking, or Mary and Tim at all.
Her mom kept reminding her what a pointless shame it would’ve been to ruin their positively bright futures and unblemished records. She was devastated over the loss of her son, and she would gladly sacrifice a stranger’s legacy for his.
Mary knew the irony of founding a SADD chapter in her brother’s name. She didn’t know what else to do. On the first anniversary, she’d found the address of the other driver and almost gone there. Her mom had stopped her. “They will take everything from us. They’ll want money. There could be criminal issues with the police report—do you think that officer helped us for free? You will destroy this family. For what? Because you can’t carry the guilt? That is the very definition of selfish.” Mary had tried to push past her mom, who grabbed her, eyes welling with tears, begging her, “I have lost everything”—Mary didn’t miss that word—“and you want to do this to me?”
Now, Mary looked up to see how appalled Charlie was, how much he hated her. “If I leave Tim, he’ll tell everyone.”
“That’s crazy. And take himself down, too?”
“You don’t understand him. He would in a heartbeat. I’m his destiny. He’s got it all planned out. It would destroy my family. And that would be worth it to him.”
“Call his bluff. Set yourself free.”
She shook her head. “I won’t. I may hate my family, but I won’t hurt them more. I have to live with this.”
“What if Tim wasn’t a problem anymore?”
Mary shook her head. “Don’t talk like that. I didn’t come here for help. I just wanted you to understand.”
Charlie nodded, then asked, “Did you ever get a text from Caitlyn, something about Loserville?”
She looked at him, confused. “No.”
He nodded. He believed her.