Page 89 of The Lies I Told
My mind ticked back through the days and weeks. We’d both been here, home for the fall break. I mentally profiled the boys at school, trying to replay who’d shown interest in Clare. Her flaming-red hair made her impossible to miss.
“You have to have an idea?” I asked.
“His name is Jeff. But beyond that I don’t know much.”
“I know everyone in the school,” I insisted.
“Not this guy.” She squared her shoulders. “It doesn’t matter.”
“And you don’t want to tell this Jeff guy? He should at least pay for the clinic visit.”
“I doubt I’ll ever see him again.”
“I can talk to him.”
“No. Don’t do that.” Clare carefully wrapped the test strip in toilet paper and set it in the trash can.
“I’m glad you came to me with this. Reminds me of the days we shared everything.”
“Me too.”
I hugged her, holding her close, knowing I’d never tell a soul. This wasoursecret. “You still coming to the party tonight?”
Clare drew back. “I need to talk to Marisa. I’ve got to tell her something important anyway. After that, if all hell doesn’t break loose, I’ll come.”
“What do you have to tell Marisa?” I asked.
“It’s between us right now.”
“We’re sisters, too,” I insisted.
“I know. But I have to tell Marisa first.”
I hid my disappointment with a smile. In friend groupings of three, someone is always left out. “Sure.”
Clare stood, smoothed her hands over her jeans. “I’m going home to change. I’ll be back in a couple of hours.”
“Are you telling Marisa about the baby, too?”
“Later. Maybe tomorrow.”
I pushed down another tide of jealousy. Clare wasmyfriend. I’d do anything for her. And still she always defaulted to Marisa. Blood was thicker than water.
“You sure you’re okay?” I pressed.
Clare’s smile was only half-hearted this time as she moved to the door. “Seriously, I’ll be fine. We’ll talk about this next week. Nothing to be done about it now.”
“I’ll be waiting for you.”
“Thanks.” Clare sniffed, raised her chin. “Okay. See you soon.”
Clare had been in such a state, she’d forgotten her coat. Though I’d been tempted to take it to her, I decided she could get it when she came back. If she wasn’t going to really open up to me, then she could wait for her coat.
Shaking off the memory, I rose and moved into Jack’s and my bedroom and then the walk-in closet. Rising on tiptoes, I grabbed an old shoebox and sat on the closet floor. Carefully I removed the top and dug through the random keepsakes until I found the small point-and-shoot camera.
The battery had gone dead a long time ago, but when I’d discovered Clare had left it tucked in her coat pocket, I’d opened the viewfinder and looked at the pictures. I’d scrolled back to the November dates and looked at the images. Marisa sitting on her unmade bed. Jack with Brit. The morning sky. An art show in the city. And the partly turned face of a guy I didn’t remember. Was he the guy?
The camera had also proved that Jack had been around Clare about the time she got pregnant. I had always thought Clare told me everything, including anything to do with Jack. But maybe Clare and Marisa were more alike. Marisa sure had kept her night with Jack a secret for thirteen years.
