God Forbid

by Megan Harris

“Did you hear about that girl they found in the marsh?” Sam said.

The four of them were seated at the kitchen table in Sam’s apartment, playing Michigan Rummy and drinking vodka seltzers.

“They only knew it was her because of the prom dress.”

“So fucked up,” said Jay.

“Yeah.”

“OK if I vape?” Monica said, holding up a palm-sized device.

Lindsay shrugged, and Jay looked at Sam, who seemed embarrassed by the question.

“You hear they charged the kid’s mother? They’re saying she helped him get rid of evidence,” Monica said, a languid cloud of vapor gathering around her head.

“The fuck?” said Jay.

“People are crazy,” Sam said.

“I say lock ‘em both up,” Monica said.

Jay didn’t look at Lindsay, who sat quietly to his left and was likely planning her next move. She was brilliant at cards.

“I guess the apple doesn’t fall far,” Jay said, and placed a Jack in the discard pile.

“If my kid came home all bloody, I’d stand there and make him call the cops on himself.” This from Sam, who had once nearly run over an old woman on the way home from a bar during Junior year at UVA. As the DD, he’d only had a couple of beers. Yet it was Jay who, from the front passenger seat, saw the woman step off the curb.

“Look out!” He’d yelled and just like that, had saved the old lady’s life. Not to mention Jay’s life. Would they have stopped? If they’d hit her, would they have called for help? The question surfaced for him sometimes, usually when he was alone. Once, he and Lindsay were up late binge watching Dexter and Jay was just starting to doze when the woman’s face appeared at the center of his mind, so vivid it made him jump.

“What about you, Linz?” Monica said.

“What about me?”

“What would you do if you knew Bryson had killed his girlfriend?”

Lindsay folded her lips under, keeping her eyes on the cards in front of her.

“God forbid,” she said. She sucked in a breath and then she said, “I’d help him hide.”

Monica’s thickly drawn eyebrows shot upward. Sam snorted, and Jay turned sideways to look squarely at his wife. She was unapologetic in her certainty.

“You can’t be serious,” Jay said, feeling the eyes and expectations of their friends resting heavily on him.

Lindsay made that face that said, This is how I feel, so fuck off. To Jay’s knowledge, their friends had never seen her look that way. It was one of those things she kept just for him, like birthday blowjobs, but far less pleasant.

“C’mon,” Sam said, “kid does something like that…”

“What about the girl’s parents? Not knowing what happened to their daughter?” Monica said.

Lindsay folded her lips again.

“I wouldn’t wish that on anyone, but…”

“But what? You gotta at least give the family closure.”

“There’s no closure after that. What is closure? Seriously.”

“Linz,” Jay said, but she held up her palm and shook her head.

“OK then, what if it was one of your girls? Your own daughter, face down in the marsh, so bloated and picked over by crabs that they only know it’s her by the dress you helped her pick out. What then?”

“Christ, Monica,” Sam said.

“Well? I want to know. What if it were Ruby or Melanie?

“Can I have another?” Lindsay said, holding an empty can toward Sam.

He stood, pulled a seltzer from the fridge, and opened it before handing it to Lindsay, his fingers lightly brushing hers. Jay looked at Sam, who quickly looked over at Monica.

“Well?”

“Well, what?”

“If Ruby were murdered, and you knew the guy’s mother protected him from getting caught, you’d be pissed. You’d want to see her fry for that shit.”

Lindsay put her fingers to her forehead and closed her eyes.

“God forbid,” she said for the second time. “If anything like that ever happened, I’d be out for blood. I’d want to tie the bastard up and go Medieval on him. And yeah, I guess, if his mother helped him, I’d wanna make her watch.

“But none of that would help. It wouldn’t bring back my baby girl. And that’s all I’d really want. You know?”

“Still, you’d feel better,” Monica said, jutting her chin slightly.

Lindsay shrugged. “Would I, though?”

Monica leaned forward, her eyes narrowed.

“What is wrong with you?”

"You wouldn't understand."

“Alright, I think that's enough,” Sam said. "Jay, isn't it your turn?"

“Don’t patronize them,” Jay said. Sam looked at him with wide eyes and shrugged, turning his palms toward the ceiling.

“It’s late,” Jay said. “I think we should go.” He started to rise from his place at the table.

"What do you mean I wouldn't understand?"

“I’m just being honest,” Lindsay said, looking at Monica. “ I can’t imagine any scenario in which I don’t protect my kid.”

Monica rolled her eyes.

“And what? I couldn't possibly know about that? Poor childless Monica just doesn't get it? Fuck that. There's no way any decent person would help a psycho killer get away with murdering an innocent girl and…”

“Please shut up,” Jay said.

“Whoa, watch it now,” Sam said.

Lindsay stood and pulled her jacket from the back of the chair.

“Jay’s right, we should go.”

Monica took a hit from her vape, blowing vanilla candy air toward the center of the table. She didn’t stand to walk them out. When Sam started to, she touched his arm, and he sat down again.

________

Jay and Lindsay rode home in silence.

“I’ll look in on the kids,” he said, unlocking the door.

This was the routine. Lindsay would pay the sitter, a sixteen-year-old girl who lived conveniently across the street. Then she’d watched from the porch until the girl was safely inside her own house.  Jay would check on the kids.

He opened the door to his son’s room. In the dim light, he saw Bryson’s small fist curled in front of his little face. Jay listened for the boy’s steady breaths, barely audible. Next, he peeked into the girls’ room. He crept over to their beds and placed a hand on each, feeling for the rise and fall of their breathing. Ruby stirred and sighed. Jay held his breath until she settled. He went  to the window and checked the locks. Below him, the street lay abandoned in either direction. His eyes searched the dark places between the streetlamps before pulling the curtains closed and heading for his bedroom.

He was already in his boxers when Lindsay came in. From his place on the bed, he watched her take out one earring, then the other before heading into the bathroom, her pajamas slung over one arm. After a minute, she stood in the doorway, toothbrush in hand.

“I guess you think I’m an asshole, too.” She said.

He raised himself on one elbow. His body responded to the sight of her in her tank top, her nipples showing through.

"I mean, what that kid did to that poor girl…" he started to say. But the image of his son in prison clothes, surrounded by hateful guards and desperate prisoners, stopped him.

Lindsay stuck her toothbrush in her mouth and closed the bathroom door. In his mind, he saw the panicked mother of the boy accused of murder, her hand held up to block the TV cameras. He thought of the desperate pleas of the girl's mother before the body was found, If anybody has any information… please, please, please.

After a while, Lindsay emerged from the bathroom. She turned off the light and got into bed with her back to him. He resisted the urge to pull her closer.

“You OK?”

Her shoulders rose and fell as she breathed. She rolled over.

“It’s all so fucked up,” she said. “This whole fucking world.”

He nodded into the dark.

Across town, a ruined boy and his ruined mother awaited trial. A few miles away, the parents of the murdered girl lay sleepless, reaching for comfort. Please, please, please.

He placed his hand over his wife’s. She moved closer and he settled into the familiar shape of her next to him—her hands, her hips, the deep well of her body against his. Across the hall, for now, their children slept.

BIO: Megan Harris works as an editor for Mud Season Review. She lives with her husband and four kids in rural Virginia, where she can always find something else to do when she should be writing.