Page 122 of Things We Do in the Dark
There’s aFOR SALEsign outside the house. Zoe is taking care of Jimmy’s estate sale. Everything is up for grabs except for Jimmy’s old boomboxes and his cassette collection, the only things Paris wants for herself.
Drew stayed for the memorial service, and now, like so many years ago, they say goodbye in the driveway.
“So I never asked you,” Paris says as she walks him to his rental car. “What happened with Kristen? And did you have a son or a daughter?”
“Kirsten,” Drew says, giving her a look, and they both chuckle. “When I got back to my mom’s place the morning after the fire, she was waiting for me on the porch. Before I could say anything, she said she thought the wedding was a mistake, and all we’d do is end up resenting each other and messing up the kid. We’re good co-parents. Kirsten got married a few years later, and Sasha has a half brother and sister. Everything worked out the way it was supposed to.”
He pulls out his phone and shows her a picture. Sasha is beautiful, because of course she would be. She has Drew’s smile.
“And you never wanted to get married?” Paris asks.
“Not really,” Drew says. “It turns out I’ve got some of my own stuff towork on. My mother says—” He cringes. “I never thought I’d be a guy that starts sentences with ‘My mother says.’”
“Belinda is an amazing woman. Tell me.”
“It’s beensuggested,” Drew says, sticking his hands in his pockets, “that the reason my relationships don’t progress to the serious stage anymore is because they don’t measure up to the relationship I imagined I would have had with you.”
“Oh.” Paris feels her face flush. “Do you… agree with that?”
He looks down at her. “Now that I’ve seen you again, I probably do.”
For the first time, she realizes it’s possible to feel devastated by grief and elated with happiness, all at the same time.
“I’m not ready,” Paris says, but she doesn’t look away. “I may never be ready.”
“We can talk about it when you’re back in Toronto.” Drew grins. “We’ll go to Junior’s.”
“How do you know I’m coming back?”
“Because of Ruby,” Drew says. “You have unfinished business with your mother.”
A brief silence falls between them.
“How much does she want?” he asks.
“Ten million.”
He lets out a low whistle. “You want my advice?”
“You know I do.”
“Don’t pay her a dime. There’s no proof that you killed Mae, because you didn’t. You set a fire. You’re not a murderer.”
He gives her another hug, and kisses her forehead. She remains in the driveway until the taillights of his rental car disappear.
She didn’t murder Jimmy. She didn’t murder Mae.
But she is a murderer.
After Zoe finally leaves and the house is quiet, Paris opens the cardboard box of Jimmy’s fan mail. It only takes a couple of minutes of digging until she finds it.
My dearest Joey,
Congratulations. You’ve been exonerated. Quelle surprise.
I have to tell you I’m losing patience. I appreciate you’ve been busy, but there are still ashes in an urn that aren’t yours. And we both know what you did to Charles.
Ten million. This is my last letter. Which means this is your last chance.
