Page 27 of Love Always

“Oh Laurel, I am so sorry. I really didn’t know. I won’t do it again.” She seems so sad and so distraught. She stares out the window for a moment as the night slides by outside, the glass slicked black with the night.

“It’s fine. That was like what? Almost eight years ago now. I miss them, but I’ve made peace with it.”

“Did they catch the guy?”

My fingers are sticky on the steering wheel and I lift them one by one and then grip the wheel. “Yes and no. We knew who did it because he totaled his car and he had to call the police from a house down the road. It happened right on this route. We passed the site about a mile back.”

She shivers. “Oh really?” Her head whipped around, looking for some spot I’m never going to show her.

“The guy who hit them, the DUI, he’s a local judge—and he—I mean I was young. I don’t remember that much about it because everyone was, you know upset, and the case went on for about a year and by then I was thick into my high school rebellion. But somehow this judge was able to make it sound like it was my parents’ fault.”

“Shit.”

“He got a lot of people in the court system he was friends with on his side. One of his closest buddies was the judge hearing the case. The guy started crying on the stand, supposedly filled with remorse. He said he felt terrible orphaning five children. He really pissed us all off, especially when he pointed out how one of them was an adopted black child.”

“Fuck me.”

“Exactly. Like Travis is separate from the rest of us? Or maybe he was virtue signaling. Either way it was awful. The case ran in the papers for months.”

“But that was before virtue signaling was a thing.”

“Oh, it was a thing before it was named, believe me.” I think back to how many of my friends wanted to do selfies with Travis when he was little and then how mysterious it was that as he grew up, all these kids disappeared. He was cute when he was little, and a threat when he reached six feet. I am starting to go down a hole—I can feel it.

Colleen must be able to sense the dive in my mood as well. “Have you changed your mind about Professor Cruz?”

I sigh. “What do you mean?” The shift is abrupt and I’m trying to keep up. Squaring my shoulders, I start again. “I told you. He’s a creep.”

“Oh,” she says, surprise in her voice. “Do you think everyone thinks he’s creepy? Maybe he’s like a hot uncle in a way.”

“Eww, no. You’re crazy.”

“Has he texted you again?”

I tell her about his last attempt to invite me out to lunch. It’s the only time she’s quiet during the drive. “There’s your car.”

I leave the engine running and put the car in park.

But she doesn’t get out. “Are you going to report him?”

“No. I mean who’d believe me. They’d ask about my history, take a look at my shitty ‘C’ grade and think I made it all up. Hey,” I stare at her. “Has he approached you?”

She waves me off.

“Has he slept with you?”

Her face contorts into a worried look and she shakes her head. “But he has slept with students. Has he asked you to do him any favors?” She starts to get out of the car.

I shake my head. “He did ask me to give something to this guy in the cafeteria. A student from a different section.”

“See?” she says “You’re moving up in the world and you don’t even know it. He’s manipulating you. Don’t ever do it again.” Now, she seems years older than me.

She slams the car door too hard which is easy to do in the Squareback. She mouths “sorry,” and I wait until she’s in the car and has the engine engaged before I pull a fast “U” and head back down 131 towards home.

This means I have to pass the crash site again. I have never forgotten the site, I always note it, and I try so hard to push the pictures from the paper of the accident from my mind. But tonight, I can’t. Having Kevin Barr breathing down my neck makes all the rage come back, all the wounds open up, and the last thing I can ever do is tell my family I slept with him once, a long time ago.

What does that make me? Stupid. Foolish. Selfish. All the things I’ve worked so hard not to be since then. Chloe gives so effortlessly, with her stories, her foods, her imagination always spinning tales to delight. And Claire sacrificed so much to raise us and all I did was put her through hell—four rushed pregnancy tests, broken promises to stay on the pill, partying, dropping out. Devon gives with her body, sacrificing herself to literally save others. And Travis? He constantly gives to us in large and small ways. He sees all of us and manages still to be himself: strong, independent, loyal, and loving.

And then there’s me. Borrowing favors, free daycare, cars. And having Cory seems like such an excuse to exercise that muscle and use him as that excuse. I’m the taker, the user. I fight it every day.