“Are you okay? You look a little tired, Roses, and I know that’s not a thing we’re supposed to say to people, but—” Ada said.
“I’m fine. I just haven’t eaten anything decent,” Rosemarie said, digging in the cherry bowl for a couple. She could probably do some fruit. She steadied herself against the counter and ate one.
“When was your last scan? I’m sorry I can’t remember. I write them down when you tell me, though. In my calendar at home,” Ada said, touching Rosemarie’s shoulder.
“Around Christmas. Ada, I’m fine, but thank you. I just need food,” Rosemarie said.
“Welp, so yeah. There you have it. Trey’s mom for sure thinks Caro and I are secret lovers. Sorry you missed out, Roses. Feel free to join us, though. Lesbian throuple. Or a rectouple, if you want in, Ada. RACKtouple,” Kasey said.
“You’re not freaking out about the police questioning you?” Ada asked. “I’m freaking out.” She looked at the clock on the oven. She was due at the police station in twenty minutes, and later, Rosemarie would go. No one was forcing them to go in, but Mrs. Foxberry had told the cops to ask them some questions and they were going willingly. All they would tell them was that Caroline had been keeping the abuse a secret and they knew Trey was an asshole—that was it. How could they possibly know anything else?
“Not really,” Kasey said. “It’ll look like he fell and hit his head and drowned. We didn’t try anything too fancy and that’s good. Accidents happen. Life’s a bitch.”
“That’s New York City talking,” Rosemarie said. She reached for another cherry.
“I couldn’t have dealt with it if we’d done some gruesome thing. If we’d, like, chopped him up or something. It was downright peaceful until he pulled my hair and…the rock. He saw glowing turtles, then thought he was going to get laid by his wife’s best friend. We showed him mercy. I know! I know I may have to deal with the trauma of all this some more later down the road. But I’ve dealt with worse. I mean, no, I don’t want to spend the rest of my life in prison, but y’all, my mom died right there and I saw her. I held her body as it cooled and her murderer got away with it. I couldn’t let that happen again. No fucking way. I’m different now,” Kasey said, pointing to the spot on the kitchen floor. Rosemarie and Ada turned to look at it. Kasey ate the last cherry. She hopped down off the counter and put the bowl in the sink.
“So the cops already talked to Caroline and they’ll hear from all of us too. Do you know who else they’re talking to?” Ada asked.
“If Trey’s mom has it her way, everyone in Goldie,” Kasey said.
“Good. The more people talk, the more crooked leads they’ll have, honestly,” Rosemarie said. “And what about Devon? Where’s your engagement ring? What’s happening?” she asked Kasey.
“I took it off to do some yard work on Friday and didn’t want it on for…everything. It’s safe! On the dresser!” Kasey said, pointing down the hallway.
“And what about Devon?” Ada asked her again.
“I love Devon and I miss Devon and Devon is driving me crazy, but I can handle Devon,” Kasey said.
They stood in a circle, held hands, and prayed. Ada left for the station. When she was gone, Rosemarie and Kasey put on the American Beauty album and sat on the back porch sharing half a joint that Rosemarie had gotten from her dad.
*
Roses, I’m flying to Goldie on
Friday morning.
You mean to Adora Springs.
Goldie doesn’t have an airport,
Esme. :P
Yes. To Adora Springs.
Okay! Ilu. Call me later?
I will. Love you too.
Silas was standing outside of the police station.
“Hey. So, I have a feeling none of this is going according to protocol. A private citizen can suggest that we come up here and give statements, although it has nothing to do with us? Is this a murder investigation or what? Who said anyone killed him?” Rosemarie asked him quietly after they hugged.
“It’s a death investigation right now. They’re doing the autopsy soon, but besides that, I don’t know what’s going on. When I do, I’ll tell you. You know I will. How’s Caro doing today?”
“Grandma Mimi says she’s fine and should be out within the week. I’m going to see her after this,” Rosemarie said, motioning her head toward the building.
“Good,” Silas said. “A friend of the Foxberrys said they heard Beau Bramford ask Trey, ‘How’d you like it if I tried to kill you, you piece of shit?’ in the hospital parking lot last week, so Beau’s in there right now, talking.”
“Really?” Rosemarie’s mostly empty stomach dropped. She might puke. She should stop by the bathroom first, just in case. Beau would be fine, she knew it, but a lot was happening all at once. Whoa. She hadn’t gotten properly stoned at the farmhouse, but the edges of the world still curved and fuzzed a little—a good thing.
Silas nodded. “What’s up, Bell?” he said over Rosemarie’s shoulder, and she turned to see Leo standing behind her.
“What are you doing here?” she asked him.
“I was going to sit and read until you were done. Moral support,” he said, holding up a James Baldwin paperback. She’d called him on her way and let him know what she was doing, but she hadn’t asked him to come along.
“Good man,” Silas said, shaking Leo’s hand. “Want some coffee? Bottle of water?” he asked him.
“Coffee, yeah. I’ll take it. Thank you,” Leo said, sitting on the bench in front of the police station. Silas went inside and Rosemarie sat next to Leo. He put his arm around her and she stayed there until it was time to go in.
2006
38
In Seattle, no women asked Rosemarie to keep their kissing a secret. No women in London asked her that either. Or Paris, for that matter. It was studying abroad in Paris where she met Mélanie and kissed Mélanie and let her tongue taste every part of Mélanie in Mélanie’s art studio. It was where Mélanie would go down on her for twenty minutes at a time while Rosemarie closed her eyes to writhe in ecstasy, then opened them in a shock of pleasure to gasp up at the skylight. Blue sky or gray clouds. Moonlight and raining stars. It didn’t matter, because time froze in Mélanie’s art studio.
Mélanie was the sister of Rosemarie’s brother’s friend, and Rosemarie met her one night at a party her brother’s friend threw. Rosemarie loved that she and Rune were in Paris at the same time, especially since it’d been sort of an accident. He’d gotten a semipermanent DJ gig, and she was there for two months in the spring, studying art history.
Leo was in music school in Boston, and she had plans to visit him on her way home when she left Paris. He’d been dating a cellist from Wisconsin for the past few months—a girl called Annie with dark bangs that got caught in her eyelashes. Rosemarie studied every picture she’d found of her online. Rosemarie lied and said yes when he asked if she wanted to meet Annie when she was in town, but Leo knew that, so he laughed when she said it and she laughed too.