Page 44 of Truth, Lies, and Second Dates
“Because I don’t live here anymore! And it’s literally my job to get the hell out of town. Daily.”
“See?” Xenia said, triumph ringing through her tone.
“Why would I have killed her? I loved her like a sister. I know people say that all the time, but I really did—” She heard her voice crack and steadied it. “I really did. Love her like that, I mean.”
“Oh, please. You just glommed onto her because your parents couldn’t be bothered with you.”
“Well, yeah.” She looked around at the circle of judgment. “What? You thought I’d deny it? I barely knew them, and they were, y’know… myparents.I loved hanging out with Danielle. She remembered my birthday, at least. Sometimes…”
Sometimes I wished I was her. Sometimes I deeply envied her. Sometimes I took a class just because she did. Sometimes I dressed like her and we got our hair done at the same place and she never laughed and she never judged so you can all fuck right off.
She couldn’t argue with these people. So she just scratched her arms
(oh, sure, furtively scratching and being unable to keep still and avoiding eye contact isn’t shady AT ALL)
while her mind emptied itself of any useful rebuttal.Say something, Tom! Tell a horrible story or come up with a spirited defense. Just say anything!
“Post hoc ergo propter hoc.”
Ava swallowed a groan.It’s my own fault. I did say “anything.”
“It’s a logical fallacy,” Tom explained, looking earnest andyummy. “After this, therefore because of this. There were many reasons for Ava to leave town. It’s hardly definitive.”
Well, not the impassioned defense of her honor she was hoping to hear, but “hardly definitive” still beat “we think you’re a well-moisturized killer with good taste in clothes.”
“If you think I killed her, why haven’t you said anything to the police? Thenornow? I’ve had more conversations with my union rep in the last three days than any of the local cops.” And surely Tom would have said something if she was a—a suspect? Person of interest? Would-be psycho of interest?
Dennis’s mother ignored the question. “As soon as I saw you,” she said in a thready voice, “it was the nightmare all over again. You don’t come back for ten years—”
“I’m in Minneapolis all the time!” she protested. “I hate it! The goddamn runway always forces me to crosswind taxi!”
“—and within hours someone snatches Dani’s ashes and desecrates the place and nothing—not the police, not prayers—nothing,nothingwill bring her back. But you,you’reback. You brought all that with you. You brought it back on all of us.Again.”
“Wait, so am I bad luck or a harbinger of doom or a vandal or a killer?”
“You’re the angel of motherfuckin’ death!” Xenia shrilled.
At last, Ava thought, still having trouble believing this was happening.A title for my autobiography.
“We should go,” Tom murmured into her ear, and truer words were never etcetera.
Ava tried to gather her tattered dignity around her, drew herself up, and took a firmer grip
“Ouch.”
on Tom’s arm. “If you’ll all excuse me, I’d like to go backto my hotel room and burst into tears and then maybe eat more bread pudding. Come on, Tom.”
“Excellent. That will give me a chance to check your feet for plantar fasciitis.”
“Great, Tom.” Still scratching, she led him out.
Twenty-Three
THE LIST
Kill everybody who thinks I’m a killer
Prove I’m not a killer
