Page 19 of Counting Backwards

My heart near stopped when he said it. I felt like he’d kicked me square in the chest, knocking the breath from me. “I didn’tletClarence do anything!” I said, not yet realizing what I was confessing.

Billy’s words had cut me deep, and I was too busy being offended to keep anything inside. His accusation brought to mind all the questions I’d been wondering ever since the crick.DidI let it happen? Could I have fought harder or done more to protect myself? Was it my own fault for leading him on right from the get-go? Would I ever feel clean again?

Billy stopped in his tracks, yanking my hand to make me face him.

“Wait. That son of a bitch forced you?” Billy had never cussed around me. His jaw was set tight, looking like he was fixing to hunt down Clarence that very moment, even as we stood there in the middle of the bridge.

“You think I would have done that with him by my own choice?”

“I’m going to murder that bastard,” he said, his eyes darting around.

“Billy, stop. I just want to forget the whole thing.”

“But you could have him arrested for what he did to you. That’s a crime. You can’t just let him get away with it.” His hands were in fists, and his face was getting redder and redder.

“And who’s going to listen to me? I’m just a foster kid who got herself in trouble like that loose mama of hers. And now with another mouth to feed on the way.”

Billy stared back at me hard for a long moment. Then finally his face softened, his shoulders coming back down a bit too.

“You know how far along you are?” he asked.

“I reckon the baby’ll come around the end of March.” I looked off toward the river, unable to meet his eyes. I didn’t want to see the judgment there. But then he surprised me.

He grabbed for my hands, both hands now, pulling at me until I brought my gaze back to his own.

“Marry me then,” he said, his eyes brightening and his breath starting to come faster.

“What? No.” I couldn’t do such a thing, not all sudden like this. And not when I’d never felt anything for Billy more than a sisterly love.

“I’ll get you a ring. We’ll do everything right.” Then he started lowering himself onto his knee.

“No, no, Billy.” I pulled at his arm so he’d not go down like that. “I can’t ask that of you. It just don’t feel like the right thing.”

“But I’ll take care of you,” he said, standing back to full height. “We could get our own house. It’d be small until I got more money saved up, but we’d be together.” His cheeks were turning pink as he talked. He looked at me so hopefully then that I thought about giving in.

“Look, I know you don’t feel that way for me,” he said. “I understand that, but there’s all different ways to love. The other stuff, maybe that could come in time. And until then, you’d be safe. And maybe happy enough? We could make a life, you and I.”

I might not have been a romantic girl anymore, but I couldn’t do it, not to Billy. It just felt like taking advantage when he still had his whole life ahead of him. And I didn’t want to do that to my one true friend.

“You don’t want to be stuck with me,” I told him. “Not when you could find a woman who wouldn’t be pretending. You deserve a woman who’ll love you true.”

All the excitement went out of his eyes then, his mouth coming closed and his whole face seeming to sag all at once. He nodded slowly, and I imagined he was replaying my words in his head. I almost wished I could take them back, but I thought I was doing what was best for both of us. I reckoned I’d find a way to solve this problem by myself. I’d been mostly on my own for so many years now.

It was only two days later that I realized how very wrong I had been.

***

Early that Tuesday morning, I heard Mrs. Alice calling for me from the other side of the house. I’d just finished tidying my cot in the alcove, hadn’t even started on breakfast yet.

“Carrie!” she hollered again, and I hastened through the house toward the front room. I found her standing beside the large fireplace, like she was waiting for company to arrive. Mr. John was there too, his lunch pail in his hand, fixing to leave for work, it seemed. Before I could wonder why he’d be heading out so early, Mrs. Alice pointed at her favorite rocker and told me to sit down.

I’d never had permission to sit in that chair before, but I did as she said.

“John.” Mrs. Alice huffed out the word like a command, telling him it was his turn to talk.

Mr. John cleared his throat and pulled at his starched collar.

“Well, Carrie,” he said. He rumbled his throat again but didn’t say more, just looked back at his wife.