Authors: Allison Leotta
By that point, Mom had moved us out of Great-Aunt Bessie’s house and into the apartment. It seemed like such a luxury just having our own place: a bathroom where we didn’t have to compete for counter space with Bessie’s Preparation H. Our own fridge, which didn’t smell like onions. Control over the remote!
But this was a different world. Even for Wendy Weiscowicz, whose parents were doing pretty well, this was a big step up. To me, it seemed impossible.
Wendy had it all—the mansion, the coach, a cherished baby on the way, parents who were still together and had time to shop with her. I felt nauseous. Envy can be worse than the flu.
“Look at that.” Kathy pointed at two deer statues on Coach’s lawn. “Shall we?”
I smiled, Jenny laughed, and we all opened our doors.
“Ma-ma!” Hayley squeaked from her car seat.
“Shhh, it’s okay,” Kathy said softly. She reached back and handed the girl a couple grapes. “Be right back, baby doll.”
We crept through the chill night air onto the lawn, the sod squishing under our shoes. The deer were surprisingly heavy. It took all three of us using all our strength to push one over. It fell with a quiet thump on the lawn. Then we pushed the other. It tipped and clunked onto its buddy. We muffled our laughs and waited for something to happen. But the neighborhood was still. No one came to a door to yell at us. No more lights went on in Coach’s house. We stood there, breathing clouds into the night. We piled back into the car, quiet with the anticlimax.
“Dee go boom!” Hayley said, pointing a chubby finger at the fallen statues. At least that made us laugh.
“You’re right, lovey, the deer fell down and went boom,” Kathy said, patting the girl’s leg. “Don’t worry, they’re just taking a little nap.”
She turned on the ignition and flipped the radio to 95.5, where Sheryl Crow informed us that the first cut is the deepest. As we
pulled off, Kathy lit a cigarette, cracked her window, and blew the smoke out into the black world. Our eyes met in the rearview mirror.
“Wanna buy some lottery tickets?”
“Sure.”
We stopped by the 7-Eleven and got some scratch-offs and a couple Powerballs. No one won.
14
A
nna remembered when Jody bought her house, three years ago—she’d been so proud. Jody worked on the line at GM for years, scrimping and saving for a down payment. The white rancher was the first big thing that was truly Jody’s. She took ownership of it in every sense, not just buying it, but using creativity and elbow grease to make it hers. Jody hand-painted the walls of every room a different color. She bought a pretty tile backsplash that she installed—herself—in the kitchen. She pored over furniture sales and decorated every room to be cheerful, modern, and bright. And she spent hours at Home Depot’s weekend classes, learning how to do home improvement and minor repairs. Jody’s home was the ultimate expression of her independence, creativity, and competence. She kept it beautifully.
After the search warrant, Jody’s house was chaos.
Anna, Jody, and Cooper walked from room to room surveying the damage. Large patches had been razored out of the carpet and couch. Bits of fluff poked out from the sofa cushions and drifted up from the carpet as Anna walked through. Chunks of drywall had been cut out from walls. Papers were piled on the floor, and utensils and dishes sat on the kitchen table. Jody’s collection of mystery novels was piled against a wall. In the kitchen, there was a hole where the sink used to be. The pipes beneath it were gone, too. In the bathrooms, only porcelain footprints remained where the toilet seats once lived. The entire bottom portion of Jody’s shower was gone, as were the pipes under it.
The house was also dirtier than Anna had ever seen it. Unlike dinner guests, the police did not ask Jody whether they should take
off their shoes. Soil was tracked all over the beige carpeting. Black fingerprint dust covered the counters, walls, and appliances. Tears welled up in Jody’s eyes as she walked around.
Jody and Cooper walked around the house, taking pictures and noting what was gone. Anna checked the missing items against the police list. They matched up. While the place was a mess, the police hadn’t done anything illegal. Rob Gargaron and his officers had simply done their jobs.
Anna followed Jody into her spare bedroom, where Jody was relieved to find her computer still sitting on the collapsible card table. It was a bulky desktop computer, which she’d had forever. Jody turned it on; it was still working.
“I need a cigarette,” Jody said.
“I thought you were trying to quit,” Anna said. “Again.”
“Sometimes I just have one if I’m stressed out. I think this qualifies.”
Jody walked out to her back porch. Anna sat next to her for company. Jody lit up and inhaled deeply, then turned to blow the smoke away from Anna.
“Jack called me today,” Jody said. “He wanted to make sure you were okay.”
“Oh.” Anna’s heart hitched. “Did he say anything else?”
Jody ashed into a plastic cup half filled with soil. Not owning an ashtray was Jody’s way of pretending she wasn’t really a smoker.
“I’m supposed to tell you he loves you.”
Anna nodded. She knew he loved her. It didn’t change things. Jody reached over and ruffled her hair. Anna tried to give her a smile.
The plumber arrived at 4:15 and looked around. He whistled when he saw all the missing fixtures. “What’d you have, a police raid here?” he joked.
“Yeah,” Jody said.
He told her that she could buy the sink, toilets, and shower pan herself, or he could sell them to her, but going through him would
be more expensive. She said she’d buy the stuff herself, and the plumber arranged to come back in two days. When he left, Jody turned to Cooper.
“Can I borrow your pickup truck?” she said. “I guess I need a trip to Home Depot. A big one.”
“I don’t know. Can you drive as well as De’Andre and Lamar?”
Jody laughed. “Yes. Thanks.”
“And can we stay at your house a few more nights?” Anna asked.
“Of course.”
They were all hungry and tired. There was no usable food left in Jody’s fridge. They decided to clean up tomorrow. Anna climbed into the passenger seat of Jody’s Yukon. They drove back to Cooper’s house.
On the console sat a pile of Internet printouts from the local library and cut-out newspaper clippings. Jody had done what Anna asked this morning, cutting out today’s articles about the coach. Anna looked at the first clipping. The headline from the
Detroit Free Press
announced, “Owen Fowler Dead at Age 50.” Anna read as Jody drove.
A legend in Michigan football, Coach Owen Fowler died early Wednesday morning in a single-car accident. Police are investigating the circumstances of the crash.
Fowler was one of the most successful high school football coaches in the state of Michigan. He led the Holly Grove football team to six state titles in twenty-five years. Several of his players went on to earn college scholarships, with dozens eventually playing in the NFL. In 2008, Fowler famously turned down a job offer to coach at the University of Michigan, noting “My place is here in Holly Grove.”
Fowler is survived by his wife, Wendy, and their ten-year-old daughter, Isabel. A public memorial service will be held Sunday at 2:00
P.M.
at the family’s residence in
Sanilac County. In lieu of flowers, the family asks that donations be made to the Owen P. Fowler Athletic Scholarship Fund.
“There’s going to be a memorial service,” Anna said. “Open to the public. We should go.”
“No,” Jody said. “We shouldn’t.”
“There could be a lot of good information there.”
“Anna. I was having an affair with him. Anyone who didn’t know before certainly knows by now. I can’t go to his memorial service and give condolences to his grieving widow.”
“But I can.”
Jody sighed. “Okay. But don’t call me if she punches you in the face. So who’d you talk to today?”
Anna told her about the day. Jody was particularly interested when Anna mentioned the bartender at Screecher’s.
“What did Grady say?” Jody asked.
“He said you’ve been hanging out, flirting with the coach.”
“Did he seem mad when he said that?”
“He seemed like a smart-ass who wouldn’t let anyone know if he was mad. Why would he be mad anyway?”
“We once had a little flirtation ourselves.”
Of course. She’d pegged him as Jody’s type.
“Are you seeing him?”
“No.”
“Jo, when did you start hanging out at Screecher’s? In stilettos and tiny skirts?”
“There’s not that much to do here.”
“There’s never been much to do here.”
Jody shrugged. Anna couldn’t tell much from her sister’s profile.
“I also talked to your neighbors,” Anna said. “Tammy said she heard you screaming in the middle of the night.”
Jody turned, her eyes wide. The pickup truck in front of her stopped for a red light, and they nearly drove into it. “Jo!” Anna cried. Jody braked sharply, sending Anna and the newspaper clip
pings flying forward. The brakes screeched as they skidded to a halt, inches from the truck in front of them.
“Jody, what the hell is going on?”
Jody stared at the road. The light turned green, and she kept driving, keeping her eyes ahead.
“Tammy’s wrong,” Jody said to the windshield. “I wasn’t yelling. Maybe she just heard the TV. I watched
Game of Thrones
after Owen left.”
“Really?” Anna said. “I can probably access your HBO GO account and find out. So can the prosecutor.”
“Hm. I’m not sure.”
“Did you get in a fight with him, Jo? Did he touch you? If he hit you and you did something to fend him off, we’d have a self-defense claim.”
“Jesus, Anna. Who do you think I am? What do you think I’m capable of?”
Anna stared at her sister. She wasn’t sure.
15
T
he night that changed everything came a couple weeks before the 2004 football state finals. The regular season was over, and the Bulldogs had won the playoffs and were gearing up for the Division 1 championship game, which would take place in Ford Field on December eighteenth. It was all anyone could talk about. Holly Grove High banners hung on every house. People tied blue ribbons around their trees and decorated their cars in blue and white washable paint. The cheerleaders toilet-papered all the football players’ houses. The town was football obsessed in any year, but it went nuts when a state title was in play.
December was always big party season, too. With the regular football games over, and the weather turning cold, there wasn’t much to do on Friday nights except go to keggers when someone’s folks were out of town.
You were never a big partier, but I liked to hang out. I wasn’t so much into the binge-drinking, but I’d have a couple beers to make everything softer. That night was different.
I think I drank so much that night because of Wendy. I was bummed about seeing her fabulous life with the man I loved. I was also frustrated with my own life. I missed you. Mom was barely ever home, working two jobs. I was lonely. Being drunk-stupid-crazy with everyone else who was drunk-stupid-crazy brought a sense of togetherness. It pushed the loneliness down, at least for a few hours. Also, there were Jell-O shots.
The party was at Devin Hughes’s house. You remember, his folks had a place out on Route 9, a few miles past Cooper’s farm. They grew something—soybeans, maybe?—in the field before the woods. Devin
was a starting lineman that year, a little full of himself, but generally a nice guy. It was cold outside, and everyone was crammed into Devin’s house. There were so many bodies that the windows fogged up completely, which was just as well, since we were a bunch of minors drinking.
It was the usual scene. A couple kegs of Natty Light, a few cheap bottles of the hard stuff, and lots of pop for mixers. Everything sloshing in red plastic cups. The jocks held the girls upside down to do keg stands. Yeah, I did a few. A bunch of us played Tippy Cup on the kitchen table. The drinking game, I think, was what got me the most hammered. It also got beer all over my shirt. I stood up to go clean myself and almost fell down. My friends laughed and so did I.
I stumbled to the bathroom to clean myself up. When I came out, Rob—before he was Detective Gargaron—was standing there, looking glazed and forlorn. He pulled me into a corner of the den and started asking about you.
Why doesn’t Anna call? Does she talk about me? Is she seeing someone else at college? Doesn’t she know how much I love her?
He slunk down the wall and sort of collapsed into sitting on the floor. I knew you were trying to wind things down with Rob—cute, dumb Rob, who couldn’t possibly hold your attention once you saw a world of other options. But at the moment, I felt sorry for him. He was really broken up.
I knelt down on the brown carpet and tried to comfort him.
You’re a special guy. If Anna needs space, let her have it—some other girl will snatch you right up.
That sort of thing.
“You’re so smart, Jody,” he said, which was not something I heard from football players often. Not that I wasn’t smart. Just that it wasn’t a quality football players scoured the earth for. “And you look a lot like Anna.”
He pulled my head to him and kissed me. I was so surprised, I didn’t react for a second. He smelled more beery than the keg, but he was a pretty good kisser—you must know that. Then his hand was on my boob—or at least where a boob would’ve been if I’d had any when I was fifteen—and another was going down my pants, and that
was
definitely
not going to happen. I pushed his chest, hard, and his head knocked back against the wall.
“Sorry,” he slurred, closing his eyes. He was almost as drunk as me.
“You don’t deserve my sister,” I said.
“Fuck your sister.”
“That’s seeming less and less likely for you, Rob.”
I went to stand up, but he grabbed my wrist. He had quick reflexes for how drunk he was. I tried to pull away but he was stronger. He opened his bloodshot eyes and met mine.