I raised an eyebrow at her.
“What?” she asked. “My sister doesn’t get it, either, but I swear their fish is really good. Especially if you put some vinegar on it. Oof.” She shook her head. “Crap, now I’m starving. I hope they get here soon.”
I walked over to her and leaned down to give her a hug. Her arms wrapped tightly around my shoulders. In the years that followed, I’d come to regard Ashley’s hugs as the best in the world. But that day, her embrace didn’t warm me the way it eventually would. I felt cold. Numb.
Looking back, it feels like I should’ve been more upset. Or angry. Or guilty. This realization about Kellie should have impacted me more than it did. But I think my body and mind were so exhausted by that point that this bit of news just pushed me over the edge into emptiness.
“Hey,” Ashley said as I pulled away and moved to leave the room. “Take care of yourself, okay? If you need anything, call me.”
I nodded. A lot of people said things like that, but Ashley actually meant it. She was there for all of us.
Mostof us.
I don’t know how she feels about me right now, after everything that’s happened. I don’t know if we’ll ever get back to being the kind of friends we were before I started writing this letter. And God, if she ever reads this …
Anyway, there is one thing I do know. And that’s that, despite the issues with Sarah and Kellie, I’m grateful to Ashley. I’ll always appreciate how much she cared, how genuine and giving she was. Even if, these days, there’s a good chance she hates me.
After leaving two separate notes on my truck’s windshield and sending one (ignored) friend request on Facebook, Brother Lloyd finally managed to catch up with me. I knew it would happen eventually. Our town was small, and if you really wanted to corner someone, you could track them down pretty easily.
I was running errands for my mom on a Saturday afternoon. I’d popped into the drugstore, which was right down the street from Virgil County Baptist. My guess is that Brother Lloyd saw me drive by from one of the church’s windows and hurried down the street to wait for me. Or maybe I’m being paranoid. Maybe he really did just happen to be right outside the drugstore when I walked out with a plastic bag full of tampons and Mom’s favorite cheap makeup products.
“Leanne,” he said, beaming brightly at me. Brother Lloyd is a short, slim man with blond hair and a receding hairline. What he lacks in hair, though, he makes up for in attire. Or at least he did that day. He was wearing a nice baby-blue button-down with a striped tie and black slacks. In a town where putting on a clean pair of unripped jeans is considered dressing up, this was verging on too fancy. “It’s so nice to run into you.”
“Hi, Brother Lloyd,” I said, moving past him toward my truck.
He followed me, of course. “I’ve been trying to get ahold of you. I wanted to see how you were doing.”
“Yeah. I got the notes you left.” My keys were in my hand now, and I was trying to figure out how difficult it would be to extract myself without coming across as rude.
“Good, good. Glad you saw them. I was beginning to wonder when I hadn’t heard from you, but I’m sure you’re busy with school and all that.” His smile slipped into something more determined then, and he cleared his throat. “Listen, Leanne, the McHales came and spoke to me.”
I unlocked the driver-side door and pulled it open, not making eye contact with Brother Lloyd as I tossed the plastic shopping bag onto the other seat. “That’s kind of what I figured.”
“They’re worried about you,” he said. “And I must say, I am, too. Some of the things you’ve been saying lately … well, they have me concerned.”
“Concerned,” I repeated as I hoisted myself into the truck.
The preacher moved quickly, positioning himself in front of the door so that I couldn’t shut it. He was smiling, though, an expression of forced kindness. As if that was somehow going to make me feel less uneasy about this situation.
“Yes, concerned,” he said. “It just doesn’t seem like you’ve been yourself lately.”
“With all due respect, sir,” I said, “you barely know me.”
“You’re right,” he admitted. “But I knew Sarah very well.”
I gritted my teeth. I hated when other people tried to tell me how well they knew Sarah. They didn’t. No one knew her like I did. They knew an idea they’d built up in their heads. A caricature of a pious girl devoid of flaws. Brother Lloyd may have seen Sarah’s face every Sunday at church. He may have been the one to baptize her. But she didn’t share the things with him that she shared with me. I remember the eulogy he gave at her funeral, the way he’d described her. He didn’t know hervery well.
I wasn’t even sure he truly believed he had.
“The stories you’ve been telling about her lately,” he continued, “I know you wouldn’t be making up these kinds of things about her if something wasn’t going on with you. So instead of lying about Sarah, why don’t you talk to me about what’s really wrong?”
“I’m not lying about Sarah,” I said. “I told her parents the truth.”
“Come on, Leanne,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest. “We both know better than that.”
“Brother Lloyd, I should be going.”
He acted as if he hadn’t heard me. “Sarah McHale is a hero to a lot of people, you know. Not just around here, but all over the country. She’s inspired a lot of teenagers to recommit to their faith. There’s even a Christian rock song about her. I think it’s called ‘Her Cross Necklace.’ Have you heard it?”
