Book of Jo: When bad things happen to almost good people
Parts 16 & 17: Aftermath
Start with Part 1. Or read a quick, spoiler-free synopsis.
September 21, 2016
Wednesday, 10:00 am
My father is sitting on the couch in the living room, flipping through a photo album. He is looking at photos of his wedding to my mother. Tears are running down his face. Despite an epic Ecstasy hangover, Berry is beside him, holding his hand. Ashley, Brad and I are circling like nervous birds, afraid to land.
Wolf is still in bed, sleeping off last night. I didn’t wake him up when I got back from the hospital. I couldn’t bear to tell him that Jenna is dead. I didn’t want to answer the questions I know he will ask. Questions like, “How could this happen to someone so young?”
Lon brings in a tray of cheese pastries and a pot of coffee. My father loves cheese pastries. We bought them in the probably vain hope that he’ll find them comforting. I watch my father from a distance. He hasn’t spoken to me all morning and mumbles “accursed bitch” whenever I get near him. The closer I get, the more agitated he becomes.
Ashley puts her hand on my shoulder. “Can I borrow you for a minute?”
“Sure,” I say. We head into the kitchen, where bacon is frying. It reminds me of yesterday, when Ashley and Jenna were fighting over the cast-iron pan. The tears stream down my face. Again.
“Are you sure you want to be here when we tell Dad?” she asks.
“Yes. Why wouldn’t I be?”
“We all know how strangely Dad is acting around you.”
“It’s definitely weird.”
“It’s definitely horrible!” Ashley turns down the stove and moves the bacon onto a plate covered with a paper towel. “It’s just that Dad is so frail. And he’s taking Mom’s death so badly…” She trails off, looking down at the floor.
“You don’t want him to be upset any more than necessary,” I continue. “And you think that having me around when you tell him about Jenna will just make things worse.”
Ashley nods mutely, tears pooling in her eyes.
“I understand,” I say, pulling her into a hug. “I’ll go for a long walk. Maybe I’ll even check in at the office.”
We go back into the living room. Wolf is coming down the stairs, dressed for work. He runs a small software company where people drift in around eleven and then stay until nine or ten at night. His face is puffy and tired. Berry is avoiding his eyes.
I have to tell him about Jenna.
“Wolf,” I call, approaching the stairs. “We need to talk.”
“Sure,” he says. “Just let me have some breakfast first. Is Jenna making more OJ?”
Oh shit, I think, as everyone gasps. Ashley starts sobbing and Lon runs over to comfort her. Berry rises from the couch and hugs Brad. I look at my father, who seems disoriented. His eyes lock onto me, and his face flushes.
“Accursed! Bitch!” he sputters. “Accursed! Bitch!”
Ashley and Berry rush over to him and start rubbing his back. “It’s OK, it’s OK,” they murmur.
Wolf stands absolutely still at the foot if the stairs, looking utterly bewildered.
September 20, 2016
Wednesday, 12:30 pm
I’m looking down at a plate of spaghetti carbonara with meatballs. For the first time since I found out I was pregnant, I feel like eating. I take a bite and then another.
“Wow, you’re hungry!” says Wolf. “Feeling better?”
“Yes,” I say, wiping red sauce from my mouth. “Much better.”
“It’s the least I can do. I’m so sorry about last night. About everything.”
I chew, swallow and take a gulp of decaffeinated iced tea. “It’s been a tough time for everyone.”
“I wish you’d have called me when you found out about Jenna.”
“Everything happened so fast. I wasn’t thinking. I should have called.”
I take a piece of warm bread and dunk it in my sauce. I notice that Wolf is picking at his food, a lemon-garlic chicken breast with a side salad.
“Can I get a bite of that?”
“Sure,” he says, slicing off a generous piece.
While I continue to devour my food, Wolf looks pensive. I can tell he has something to say to me, something serious. I stifle the urge to ask him what’s wrong. I know that silence is the best way to draw him out.
“Jo,” he says, gazing into my eyes.
“Yes?”
“I know I don’t have to say this,” he says, pausing for a moment. “But I want to. Look, nothing happened with Berry last night. All I did was pull her off a very large, smelly man wearing a lot of leather, and drive her home.”
“I appreciate the reassurance. But I wasn’t really worried,” I lie. “Can I have some of that salad, too?” He smiles and passes me his entire plate.
“This must be one of those pregnancy cravings,” he says, smiling.
“Mmmm, mmmm,” I say, taking a forkful of salad.
“There’s also one more thing I need to say. I know I’ve been a pretty shitty husband lately.”
I nod and keep chewing. I really don’t think Wolf has been a shitty husband. It’s more like he hasn’t been exactly stellar lately.
“I want to be there for you more than I have been,” he continues.
“I’m glad,” I say, after I swallow the last forkful of salad. “And you haven’t been all that shitty.”
“Yes, I have. And I feel terrible about it,” he says. I notice that he’s twisting the ends of his paper napkin into thin, ropy cords. He does that when he’s nervous. He even did it on our first date. I smile, remembering how he’d asked the restaurant make me a special birthday dessert — even though it wasn’t my birthday.
“I’m so sorry, Jo,” he says, “but I have to leave for New York City tomorrow morning. One of our clients is blowing up and I have to go kiss some asses and smooth things over.”
So that’s why he’s so anxious. I consider asking him to cancel the trip, to send someone else, but decide against it. I will be sad and miserable whether he’s here or not.
“Don’t worry about it,” I say, gulping the rest of my tea. “Brad and Ashley are staying through the weekend. So are Berry and Lon. I’ll be fine. Just get back here by Sunday morning.”
Wolf knows we’ll be having my mother’s funeral on Sunday afternoon in the garden behind the Restful Arms Funeral Home.
“Absolutely. I’ll be back by Saturday night. Thank you for being so understanding,” says Wolf, obviously relieved. He takes a long drink of water and then looks quizzically at my face.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
“You’ve got something on your lip,” he says.
I like spaghetti with red sauce, but this is why I almost never order it; it gets everywhere. I take my napkin and carefully wipe my lips.
“OK?”
“No, it’s still there.”
I hop up and hurry to the bathroom. It’s blessedly empty. I close and lock the door behind me, and look in the mirror. Wolf is right. There is something on my lip, in the upper right corner. It’s red and inflamed. I run my finger over it. It feels like a blister. I press slightly harder and blister pops, and then it stings.
If I didn’t know any better, I’d think it was herpes. But I was tested three months ago as part of my preconception checkup, and the results came back negative.
I add a dermatologist’s appointment to my list of things to do.
Book of Jo is a homeless novella that is going to crash on Medium for a few months. I will release new parts on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, until the whole story has been posted. Enjoy!
Read Part 1.
Read Part 2.
Read Parts 3 & 4.
Read Parts 5 & 6.
Read Parts 7 & 8.
Read Parts 9 & 10.
Read Part 11.
Read Parts 12 & 13.
Read Parts 14 & 15.
Read Parts 18 & 19.
Read Parts 20 & 21.
Read Parts 22 & 23.
Read Parts 24 & 25.
