Page 97 of Love Takes Home

Joker doesn’t talk a lot about this side of his job often because it can be delicate and I know he feels personally responsible for the families that travel through and stay here. He sees it as part of his job, but I know better. He does this because of his own past. He always says he was lucky in landing with Annie, that his life could have gone a completely different direction, and I agree.

After I’ve cleaned and moved the wash over to the dryer, I take my cello out on the back deck and play. There’s no one to complain I’m too loud, and I can mess up and no one’s here to call me on it. I can just play. This is what I miss from when I was younger. I could let the music take me away. While I play, my mind wanders. I don’t know what the future holds, but one part I see very clearly is Joker at my side. Being with him feels so different than any man—or boy—I’ve ever known. It certainly doesn’t feel like it did with Keith. I didn’t love him. I was settling because the fear of being alone was terrifying it at the time. Until it wasn’t and I didn’t know how to get out of it. I didn’t want to disappoint anyone. Little did I know they were all just waiting for me to cut my losses.

And I know I sound like a cliché—“He’s not like the others.”—but he really isn’t. I’ve never had someone care about my feelings so much. Never been treated so kindly. And touch I’ve never known was possible. I didn’t like to be touched, not really, until Joker showed me that it was about my pleasure and not just his. When he’s not around, it feels like a part of me is missing. When Keith would go out of town for whatever meeting or conference he deemed super important, I celebrated at having time tomyself. I never missed him, that was for sure. That should tell me everything I need to know, right?

I don’t know how long I’ve been out here lost in the thoughts and my music, but when the phone rings, it startles me. I try to get it before it stops, but I’m too late, and I see I’ve missed more than one call. It’s from a number I don’t recognize, but when I listen to the message, it’s from Roger, and I call it immediately back.

“Ginny,” he answers, relief in his voice.

“What’s wrong? Is Aubrey alright?”

“What? Oh, yeah, she’s fine.”

“But there’s something wrong,” I state. There’s no question that he wouldn’t be calling me if everything were just fine.

After a pause that worries me, he finally speaks. “Something happened at the school.”

“What happened? There isn’t supposed to be anyone there.”

“One of my guys called me and said we needed to keep an eye on something, and we watched it happen.”

“Roger? What happened?”

“Your classroom—” he cuts himself off.

“What about my classroom?”

“Well, sweetheart, it’s been destroyed.”

“Destroyed? How?” I ask in disbelief. He’s fucking with me. He has to be.

“Everything’s been wrecked. Desks, chairs,” he pauses and I can hear him audibly swallow, “instruments.”

“The instruments were destroyed?” I quietly ask, needing him to say it again.

“Yes.”

“Why didn’t you call the cops?”

“I wanted to tell you first. This just happened, Ginny. And you need to know who it was.”

“Keith?”

“No. Kids.”

“How many?”

“There were at least four of them. They all looked the same when everything started to go flying. I haven’t asked Aubrey who they are yet, but—”

“They look like kids who could be on the baseball team?” I finish for him.

“They were wearing jerseys.”

“Fuck,” I whisper. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

“What do you want me to do? I’ll need to call it in, eventually. You know that, right?”

“I need to see it for myself first. Can you let me do that?”

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