Page 68 of Give Me a Shot

“Thank you,” he said.

“For what?” she asked, letting him close his hand around hers.

“That’s the first time you’ve told me her name.”

A single tear rolled down her cheek. She rubbed it away with her free hand. He could feel her struggling, so he thought it was best to be indirect.

“Tell me more about what she liked,” he said.

“What she liked?” Jess asked.

Mo nodded.

“You told me about the Ren Faires, but what else?”

Jess tilted her head to the side then squinted, the tears in her eyes shimmering.

“Sheadoreddoing Children’s Story Hour at the public library, where she worked. She always said that reading to the children was the best part of her job. She’d even dress up, get multiple uses out of her Ren Faire garb. She also had other costumes for other sorts of stories.”

Jess laughed once, the previous sadness on her face giving way to nostalgia.

“It makes sense, if you think about it. She was the ‘dress up’ sister. When we were kids, she’d make costumes out of anything. For her, for me. Even for our dog. Very on brand for Cassie to find ways to wear costumes as frequently as possible.” Jess smiled at him, but it was a broken smile. He smiled back and began stroking the back of her hand with his thumb.

“Cassie was a librarian?”

Jess nodded, whisking away another tear.

“A children’s librarian,” she said, smiling. “She loved books and kids and…God, I feel so guilty.”

Mo had wanted to ask if Jess knew the name of the branch of the library where Cassie had worked. He’d taken Maddie to Children’s Story Hour, and she’d loved it. There was a small possibilitythat he’d crossed paths with Cassie. But Jess feeling guilty was a more important issue. He needed to tread lightly with an emotion as weighty as guilt. Especially after the shift from the positivity of happy nostalgia. He didn’t see what she had to feel guilty about, and he wanted to push the feeling off of her, but he didn’t want to approach it in a way that made her feel invalidated.

“Jess,” he whispered, leaning closer. “Would you help me? I don’t understand what you feel guilty about.”

Jess slumped forward. She put her elbow on the table and supported her forehead with her hand.

“I’m…I’m kind of taking her place, a place that was once hers and never can be again,” she said. “It’s wrong; I’m wrong. I’ve been wrong on so many levels when it comes to her.”

He began to rub her back softly.

“I didn’t…” He needed to pause for a breath because her distress was tightening his throat. He cleared it. “I didn’t have the privilege of knowing her, so I can’t say what she would think. I am confused, though. Why do you feel that you were wrong?” he asked.

Jess sighed and sat up. She still had a firm grip on his hand.

“Because I didn’t see the signs. Well, looking back, I can see some. But I’d just thought he was a garden variety asshole. At the time, I wasn’t paying enough attention to realize what was going on. Like you did,” she said.

Mo didn’t follow. How could he have paid attention?

“Um…” he said. “What—”

“The woman with the car, with the tracker,” Jess said. “You recognized what it could mean.” She took a deep breath and sighed.

Again, Mo was a little lost. Then it clicked.

“Ah,” Mo said. He squeezed her hand. She winced a little, so he loosened it. “Your sister was a victim of intimate partner violence?” he asked softly.

Jess nodded. Then a short, dry laugh seemed to escape her.

“Depends on who you ask,” she said. “There were signs—first physical isolation, then policing her appearance, pushing her tolose weight when she really didn’t need to. I was too far away to see the changes happening, but as she became more and more difficult to reach after being in near constant contact our whole lives, I began to think that something was wrong. My parents disagreed.”

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