Chapter Four
Jake turned over, facing away from his sleeping wife, and opened his eyes. The bedroom was pitch dark because Pam liked to keep the blackout shades down, and it made the green digital numerals in his alarm clock glow even brighter. It was 2:45 A.M., and he’d been tossing and turning since he’d showered and gone to bed. He knew he would never fall asleep, replaying the night in his head, starting with him being parked outside the movie theater and ending with his avoiding his rearview mirror, so he couldn’t see the broken corpse of the woman vanish into blackness.
Jake tugged the covers up over his shoulder. In his mind, he went over everything he did and everything he said, then everything Ryan did and said, again and again, trying to see how it could have come out differently, or how he could’ve reached a different decision. But he kept coming out in the same horrendous place, reaching the same unthinkable conclusion.
Anguished, Jake felt like it was a no-win situation from the moment they hit the runner, or maybe from the moment he found out about the marijuana, or maybe from the moment he let Ryan drive. His guilt and remorse drove him to keep trying to parse his decisions and sent him into another spiral of what-if reasoning, what if I hadn’t gone to pick him up, what if I hadn’t let him drive, what if I had paid attention to the road, what if, what if, what if.
Jake squeezed his eyes shut, keeping tears at bay. He slept on the side of the bed closer to the door, because he was supposed to protect everybody, the Daddy-dragon guarding the Dutch Colonial. The thought made him cringe, after what had happened. He’d protected his son into a nightmare. And if he was having a sleepless night, he could only imagine that Ryan had it worse.
He eased off the covers, got up quietly, and padded down the hallway to Ryan’s room. He turned the knob carefully, opened the door, slipped inside, and closed the door behind him. The bedroom was dark, and moonlight came through the striped curtains. Ryan made a large mound under his comforter, and Jake could see his head on the pillow, but couldn’t make out his face. Moose was curled up on the bed, his head resting on Ryan’s feet, and the golden retriever didn’t stir.
“Dad?” Ryan whispered, and Jake crossed to the bed and sat down on the edge.
“How are you doing?”
“Horrible. How are you?”
“Horrible, and worried about my boy.” Jake’s eyes were adjusting to the light level, and he could see the shadows of Ryan’s young features, the hollows of his eyes and cheeks, and the dark waves in his hair. “Are you getting any sleep?”
“No.”
Jake sighed heavily. “I know, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry that it happened.”
“Me, too, I’m sorry, so sorry. Everything is my fault, all of it.”
“That’s not true.”
“It is, you know it is. I was the driver. I’m the one responsible.”
“No, it was an accident. That’s why they call it an accident. Accidents happen.” Jake had been giving himself the same speech for the past hour. “We weren’t doing anything really wrong, it just happened.”
“Come on. I was doing something wrong. I wasn’t watching the road.”
“You happened to look over for a minute, a second, even a split second. You were having a conversation with me, and that happens every day, in cars all across this country.”
“But, Dad—”
“You weren’t texting or talking on the phone. In the fraction of a second you looked away, we hit a blind curve, and a runner was in the street. Who knew that she would be running that time of night? And she didn’t have any reflective gear on, either.”
“It’s not her fault she got hit.”
“I didn’t mean that.” Jake realized he was lying then, too. He did mean that. He had just blamed an innocent victim for getting herself killed. He must be losing his mind. A wave of guilt washed over him, so profound he had to close his eyes until it passed.
“Lots of people run late at night.”
“I know, but it’s not your fault that you hit her. That we hit her.”
Ryan moaned. “No, I hit her, you just said it.”
“Ryan, we’re in this together, and we will get through this together.” Jake stroked Ryan’s hair back from his face, a gesture he did without thinking, then realized that he couldn’t remember the last time he’d done it. He felt his throat thicken. “I love you, do you know that?”
“I love you too.”
“You’re a smart and able kid, and you’re stronger than you think.” Jake swallowed hard, not really knowing what to say. “By the way, everything went okay with Mom. But I didn’t tell her the story about Caleb and you getting in a fight. I told her that you and I got in a fight about texting in the car.”
“What?” Ryan asked, a new note of anxiety in his voice.
“I changed the story.”
“Why did you do that? We decided on the Caleb story.”
“I know, but this is better.”
“No it isn’t.”
“I think it is.” Jake hated himself, fussing with his son over which lie was better. “It makes more sense because it keeps everything between us and doesn’t involve Caleb. We don’t want her to start talking to Caleb’s mom, do we?”
“Oh, no, because of the weed,” Ryan answered sadly.
“That wasn’t what I meant. I was just saying that I don’t want any chatter between the moms about tonight, and also I told her that she shouldn’t bring it up with you. If she does, just say you don’t want to talk about it.”
“You think that’ll work?”
“For you, it’ll work. For me, no chance in hell.”
“That’s a random thing to say, Dad.” Ryan fell silent, then pulled out his iPhone. Its home screen glowed in the dark, showing a funny photo of Moose rolling on his back, his four big paws in the air. Ryan started to scroll to the Internet. “I looked online, but the news doesn’t have anything about the lady. Does that mean they didn’t … find her yet? Does that mean she’s … still lying there?”
“Not necessarily. Maybe they found her but haven’t released it to the public yet. They have to inform the next of kin.”
“That means her family, right?”
“Yes.”
“But she must live with her family. They would know that she didn’t come home from her run.”
“Maybe she lives alone.”
“Do you think she does? Could you tell … how old she was?”
“No, I couldn’t.” Jake shuddered, flashing on the woman’s abraded face.
“Also it’s going to rain all night. Do you think she’s out there … in the rain?”
Jake hadn’t known it was raining. Pam’s blackout shades muffled sound, too. “I don’t want you to think about that anymore. What’s done is done. These first few days are going to be hard, I know, because you’re a good kid and you feel terrible.”
“I do, I feel terrible. I keep wondering who she was. I keep thinking about her.”
Jake squeezed his shoulder. “I know, but we need to stay the course. Keep it to yourself, and obviously, don’t say anything to any of your friends or anyone on the team.”
“I wouldn’t, Dad. I’m not stupid.”
“I know, but you’re feeling bad and you could open up to people”—Jake didn’t know where he was going with this, so he let it go—“anyway, enough said. We did the right thing, in the circumstances.”
“What? You really think we did the right thing? I don’t.”
“Listen, I’m your father and my job is to protect you. I feel horrible about what we did and if I could bring her back, I would. I tried to. I made the best decision I could on the spot, and in that moment, my first concern is always you.”
Jake’s chest tightened as he tried to explain the inexplicable.
“Look. If there were any chance of saving her life, I never would’ve left. But she was gone. It was an accident, I don’t know what purpose would have been served by your going to jail for a long, long time. Then two lives would have been destroyed, instead of one.”
“So you think it was the wrong thing, too.”
“Okay, yes, right.”
“It was the wrong thing. We did the wrong thing.”
“Yes, we did. Well, I did the wrong thing, for a good reason.”
“What does that mean?”
“Forget it.” Jake raked his hand through his hair. He had done the wrong thing. He had acted too fast. He should have called the cops and taken the blame himself. Maybe Ryan could have held it together under questioning. Maybe Ryan could have run home, though it was miles away. Or hid in the woods. Or whatever. He hadn’t had time to think, on the scene. Either way, it was too late now.
“So then, maybe, we could change our minds. Could we do that?”
“No, we can’t,” Jake answered, more sharply than he intended. Moose lifted his head, then thumped his tail on the comforter, whomp whomp whomp.
“No, Dad, listen to me. I was thinking, couldn’t we go to the police now and tell them that we left, but we’re sorry we left … and tell them all about what happened?”
“No, we couldn’t, no.” Jake had been second-guessing himself, too, but he kept coming out in the same place. “Once we left the scene, we left the scene, and if they were to test you, they would find marijuana in your system. I think that stays in your system for days.”
“I know, they give us random drug tests on the team. They just tested us yesterday for the playoffs. That’s why we figured it was okay to smoke.”
“It ends now, Ryan. No more smoking.”
“Yes, agreed, of course, but maybe if we explained to them that I wasn’t high when I hit her, that it was a blind curve, they would—”
“Understand? Let it go? It doesn’t work that way, buddy.”
“No, I know they wouldn’t let me off or anything, but maybe I would get probation, or I wouldn’t go to prison for that long—”
“No, this was the right thing.”
Ryan scoffed. “Dad, it’s not the right thing. Stop saying that.”
Jake cringed. “Fair enough. But it’s the only thing we could do, and if it makes you feel any better, please remember it wasn’t your decision. It was my decision, and I think the thing to do, from here on out, is for you to live your life. It’s going to be hard in the beginning, but then it will get easier, I promise.”
“Why will it get easier?” Ryan asked, incredulous.
“Time changes things. It makes things easier.”
“Dad, I killed that lady. That’s wrong, like, forever. Time doesn’t change that.”
Jake felt a stab of sympathy for him, so deep it felt like a knife wound. He had no immediate reply, because Ryan’s reasoning was logical, and in fact, he sounded just like his mother. Meantime, Moose had awakened and was stutter-stepping to them on the bed, then he plopped his feathery butt down and opened his mouth, so that his tongue lolled out. Jake decided to change tacks with Ryan. “So what are you doing tomorrow?”
“I don’t know. After this, I feel—”
“No, what were you going to do tomorrow, before this happened?”
“Well, it’s Saturday. Chemistry, Algebra. You know, homework.” Ryan shrugged, and Moose lay down, tucking his muzzle between his meaty front paws.
“Okay, so do your homework. Do everything you would do. Go out on that date, with that blonde, Janine Mae—”
“Dad, are you serious right now? That’s not possible.”
“I know it’s not easy, but it’s the only way, and we did this so you can have a life. So live your life.”
“Is that why we did it? For me?”
“No, well, for us both.”
“No, for me.” Ryan’s voice softened, pained. “Tell the truth, Dad. You did it for me. You were going to tell the cops that you were driving, for me, before you even knew about the weed.”
Jake waited, not understanding or not wanting to answer, or both. “Is that a question?”
“Yes.”
“Then yes.”
“That’s, like, so unselfish of you.”
Jake felt a surge of emotion that constricted his chest. “Son, I love you and I’d do anything for you. It’s as simple as that.”
“I love you, too.” Ryan paused. “Dad, what are you doing tomorrow? Are you going to the office?”
“No, I’m—” Jake caught himself. “I told your mother I’m going in early, but I have to take care of the car.”
Ryan gasped. “Oh no, I forgot! What about the car? Is there blood on it? Is it dented?”
“I’ll handle it.” Jake had found a dent on the front bumper and on the undercarriage. “I don’t want you to think about this anymore. Let me handle everything. These are my decisions, not yours. The less you know the better, as a general matter.”
“Can I go with you?”
“Where?”
“To the body shop.”
“No. Now lie back, and go to sleep. In fact, make sure you sleep in. You always sleep in on Saturday mornings, and your mother expects that, so don’t change anything.” Jake sensed it would be safer if Ryan wasn’t alone with his mother, in the short run. The boy was too fragile right now, and Pam could cross-examine a rock.
“Dad, how am I gonna sleep late? I can’t sleep now.”
“Stay in bed anyway. I’ll be back before noon, and I’ll come get you. Okay? Don’t worry, let me handle everything. Now lie down and try to rest.” Jake gave him a final pat on his shoulder, then rose to go. “I’ll be down the hall in my office.”
“Why?”
“I have some work to do.” Jake realized he’d just told his third lie of the night and resolved to stop counting. “Try to get some sleep. I love you.”
“Love you, too.”
Jake went to the door, taking one last look at Ryan, who was hugging the dog in the dark. He flashed on his son as a child, cradling Moose as a fuzzy puppy, just brought home from the shelter. The memory was completely fresh, and for a moment, Jake felt stunned by its appearance, the sweetness of the past clashing so horribly with the anguish of the present.
Jake thanked God he had a son to put to bed when he knew somewhere there was a family, right now, waiting for someone who would never come home. Jake felt a wave of new shame. Then he slipped out of the bedroom, closed the door behind him, and padded down the hall to his office.
He was a planner, and he needed a plan.