“Just because Tony left the notes doesn’t mean he killed your mother.” “But it shows he’s crazy, that he might’ve robbed our house, for God’s sake.
Maybe he was angry because my father shot that other guy, what’s his name,
Sanchez, so he came back here and killed my mother to get even. Or maybe it was like I said before, because my mother was breaking up with him.” “Like I said, I think you’re right, it was probably Tony,” Xan said, “but- and
I’m just throwing this out there, so don’t get upset- what if your father left the notes?”
“Why would he do that?”
“To set Tony up. Maybe he found out your mother was cheating on him, then left the notes and then went to start a fight with Tony, knowing he’d get beat up, knowing it would make Tony look bad. You see what I mean?” “But would my father really think it through that much? Would he really do all that planning?”
“I have no idea,” Xan said, “but he did kill somebody before, right? And if he killed before, I guess that means he could do it again.”
Marissa couldn’t deny it anymore- what Xan was saying was making a lot of sense, too much sense. She could easily see her father, especially the way he’d been acting lately, losing control and snapping. He could’ve been arguing with her mother and impulsively grabbed the knife just like he’d impulsively gone into the closet the other night to get the gun.
“Oh my God,” Marissa said. “He did it.”
“Whoa, come on, I didn’t say that,” Xan said.
“It’s like I’ve been in this deep denial or something. Oh my God, I can’t believe this is happening.”
Xan moved on top of her, resting on his knees and elbows, looking down directly into her eyes, and said, “Nothing’s happening. You don’t know anything, the police don’t know anything.”
“I won’t be able to handle this,” she said. “I’m warning you right now, I won’t be able to get through this.”
“Don’t worry, I’m here,” Xan said. “No matter what, you’ll be okay, I’ll make sure you’re okay. But if it turns out that Tony didn’t do it, I mean he has an alibi, I just want you to be ready for the police to start looking at your father, you know? I don’t want it to be a shock to you.”
She imagined her father grabbing the knife and sticking it into her mother’s back.
“Oh, God, no, no, no,” Marissa said as she wrapped her arms and legs around Xan’s warm body as tightly as she could.
Later, Marissa didn’t want Xan to leave. She was afraid to be home alone with her father.
“I’ll stay with you as long as you want me to,” Xan said.
“But you don’t have any clothes or-”
“I don’t care. You’re the only thing I care about right now.”
Xan was blowing her away. He was just so perfect.
They took turns going to the bathroom, and when Marissa went she heard her father talking downstairs on the phone.
“You should probably go down,” Xan said.
“I don’t want to,” Marissa said. “I just want to stay here in bed with you all day.”
“I’d go down with you, but this is a family thing, and you two should be alone right now, have some time to yourselves.”
“I don’t want time with him.”
“I’ll be right here,” Xan said. “If you need me, just call for me and I’ll be right down, okay? You don’t have to worry about anything.”
Figuring she’d have to face her father eventually, Marissa decided to just go down and get it over with.
From the staircase, she heard her father talking on the phone in the dining room. She didn’t know how they were ever going to use the kitchen again because she sure as hell wasn’t going in there anytime soon. She’d order in Chinese food for every meal if she had to.
When she went into the dining room, her father, sitting at the table, made eye contact with her as he finished a phone call. By his tone, she knew he was talking to his friend Stan.
She stood there, watching him talk, searching for some sign that would tell her whether he was guilty or innocent. He seemed appropriately upset, but did that mean anything? Wouldn’t he be acting upset either way? Either he was upset because her mom had been murdered or he was pretending to be upset to keep the act going. And if he was really crazy, if he was an actual psychopath, he’d be very good at faking his grief.
After about a minute he ended the call and said to her, “That was Stan. Jesus, this is so hard.”
For a few moments Marissa couldn’t think of anything to say- it was weird, she was actually scared to be near her father. Then she said, “I can make some calls, too, if you want me too.”
“No, no, it’s okay. Actually, I’ve almost called everybody I have to. Some friends are calling other friends, and I’ve gotten in touch with most of the relatives, grandma’s coming up tonight. I was afraid to tell her, with her heart condition, but what can you do? Oh, the funeral’s tomorrow morning at ten, by the way.”
Marissa wasn’t surprised that the funeral would be so soon. Although they were hardly a religious family, they followed some Jewish traditions, like burying the dead as soon as possible. Marissa’s grandfather had also been buried only a couple of days after he’d died.
Her father went on about how her mother would be buried in the family plot on Long Island and about the arrangements he’d made with the rabbi and the funeral home. “The only relative I’m not inviting is Mom’s brother,” he said. “I don’t think she’d want him here.”
“Yeah, I don’t think so either,” Marissa said.
Marissa had only met her uncle Mark a few times and hadn’t seen him in years, but apparently Mark had abused her mother when they were kids, and her mother had pretty much cut off all contact with him.
“This is still so surreal,” her father said. “I’m still expecting her to walk in here any second. When I heard your footsteps on the stairs before, at first I thought it was her.”
He looked like he was on the verge of tears, straining very hard to maintain his composure. Marissa still didn’t see any sign that this was a put- on, and she was feeling guilty for suspecting him, for losing faith in him, when he said, “Oh, so Clements called before, and unfortunately they haven’t made an arrest in the case yet.”
“What about Tony?” Marissa asked.
“He has an alibi, and apparently it’s airtight. I don’t know all the details, but Clements said he was with a friend at the time Mom was… Anyway, Clements said it rules him out, but I don’t believe it. If it’s a friend, how do we know the friend isn’t covering for him? But Clements said they’re looking at other possibilities, and what do you think that means? I can’t believe I have to deal with this while I’m in the middle of planning Mom’s funeral. I’ll tell you one thing, I’m not talking to him alone again. I’m not saying another word to him without my lawyer sitting right next to me. If I’d been thinking straight last night I would’ve hired a lawyer right away, put an end to this ridiculousness.”
Marissa was looking at her father closely, focusing on his eyes, trying to figure out if he was lying.
“And then I’m gonna have to deal with all of that media crap again,” her father continued, “with all of the sensational articles they’re writing.”
“It’s in the papers?” Marissa asked. She hadn’t even thought about this yet.
“I only checked the Post, the online edition, and yeah, it’s front page, and I’m sure it’s on the front page of all the other papers, too. In the Post story Clements called me a person of interest in the case. I understand why he has to check me out, but it’s so awful to lose your wife and then have to read that crap. Do you have any idea what this is going to do to my practice, to my career? I don’t even want to think about that yet or I won’t be able to get through the funeral and everything else. The reporters are still out there, and they can stay out there all day if they want to, but I’m not saying a word to them, and I don’t think you should either. This is total harassment now, and I’m gonna talk to my lawyer about this, too, see if there’s any kind of action I can take. You always hear about the media exploiting people, celebrities. You become immune to it, like it’s part of our culture, because you don’t think it can happen to you. You think it’s only something that happens to other people, that you’re protected, but you’re not. The thing is it can happen to anybody… Why’re you looking at me like that?”