Ben:???????????????Was it okay? Leaving?
Julia:??????????????My mom came up and stood in the house while I packed, so he was forced to be on his best behavior. He yelled a lot when I was there today—I was alone—but it was fine. I told him that my mom and my friends knew I’d come up to Plumpton, just in case.
Ben:???????????????Just in case something happened to you? Right? I just want to make sure I have this straight—you felt the need to let someone know you were going to see Matt, because you were worried that something might happen to you while you were there?
Julia:??????????????Well, it sounds quite dramatic when you put it like that.
But … yes.
I start to end the interview here, and Julia almost lets me, but she jumps back in, looking flustered.
Julia:??????????????No, I just … Can I say one more thing? I need to tell you something.
Ben:???????????????Of course.
Julia:??????????????It’s something Matt said about Lucy once. When he was drunk. Very drunk, actually. He was going off on this tangent that he did sometimes. I think it was to make me feel bad. Talking about how wonderful Lucy was. It never really made me feel bad, though. Or, not in the way he probably thought it would? I’d get pissed at him, but just even more intrigued about Lucy.
Anyway. He was talking and talking, and he said, “I should have protected her better.” And I was like, “You mean after the murder?” Because I knew that he’d sent her to her parents after and felt guilty about it.
And he was like, “No, that night. I should have protected her better.”
I was like, “What do you mean? You weren’t there, right? Do you mean you should have left the wedding with her?” I was fishing for information, because Matt never talked about that night.
And I could see him have this, like, moment of clarity where he realized what he said, and his face just turned bright red. And he muttered something about how, yeah, that was what he meant, but … I don’t think that was true.
I think he was there, with Lucy, when Savvy died.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
LUCY
Ben gets Julia’s episode up bright and early Monday morning. I listen to it while I run on the treadmill, and apparently, I’m not the only one tuning in first thing, because I have a bunch of missed calls and several texts on my phone when I’m done. I read them as I walk across the parking lot to my car, sweat trickling down my back.
Grandma: Hon, can you call me? Or come by. Any time.
Dad: Did you leave already? Your mom and I want to talk to you.
Nathan: Hey, is everything okay down there? Just because we broke up doesn’t mean we can’t still be friends. If you want to talk about anything.
Emmett: Do you want to get lunch soon?
Christ, I’m so popular suddenly. People find out that your first husband has been slapping around his second wife and everyone makes assumptions.
I sit in my car for several minutes with the AC blasting in my face, thinking about what to do about those assumptions.
On the one hand, they’re right.
On the other hand, they can all go fuck themselves.
I don’t appreciate them turning me into the victim of this story. Savvy’s the victim. She was buffed and polished after her death and turned into the perfect victim I could never be. Let’s leave it that way.
Another text pops up on my phone.
Hey, it’s Julia. Ben gave me your number.
I told him he could do that. Now I wish I hadn’t.
I hope you’re okay. I’m happy to talk, whenever you’re ready.
I wonder whether she really never fought back. Did Matt just confuse us, or did she snap like me, and decide to get out ahead of the story?
God, I hope it’s the latter. She’s so tiny and cute, no one would ever believe that she hit him. I hope she beat his ass.
I stare at her texts. I’m never going to give her what she needs. I’m not a supportive shoulder.
I quickly type out a reply.
Thanks. Good luck with everything.
“If you stab him in the neck, it’ll be quick,” Savvy whispers in my ear. “Do you want it to be quick?”
Julia is definitely better off without me.
My phone rings—Grandma—but I ignore it. I have to make a choice. If I tell the truth, and admit that Matt hit me, he will definitely tell everyone that I fought back. It won’t matter that it was months before I snapped. It won’t matter that I suffered through countless nights of screaming insults and stinging slaps and being thrown against walls so hard it’s a miracle my head isn’t dented.
I did, eventually, snap, and it’ll just be further proof of my evil, violent heart.