Stevens Chevy - Never Knowing

So of course I lose it. “Get the hell off my back, Evan. If it bothers you so much, clean it up yourself.” Then he storms outside, pissed at me for yelling at him. He didn’t talk to me for an hour, which isn’t like him at all. I can’t stand it when someone gives me the silent treatment, so I end up apologizing, then later I’m like, wait a minute — why didn’t he apologize for picking the worst time in the world to get on my case?

We talked about it right before I came here and he said he was sorry for his comment, but I know he’s still pissed off. Then on the way here I remembered what you said last session, that Evan might be feeling resentful of all the time I’m spending on the John situation. I didn’t think so then because we’d been getting along great, but this week something changed, and now everything’s changed. No one’s having much fun right now — except maybe John.

The day after our last appointment I got a call from Sandy.

“Julia would like to talk to you. She tried to call you but you’ve changed your numbers.”

“What does she want to talk about?”

“I don’t know, Sara.” She sounded annoyed. “She just asked me to give you her home number.” I could imagine how much Sandy loved playing messenger. The thought made me smile.

“Thanks. I’ll call her right now.” But I didn’t. Instead I made a cup of coffee, then sat at the table with the phone in front of me. The woman could make me feel horrible and I had enough of that going on. Maybe I shouldn’t call her back at all. Give her a taste of her own medicine. I lasted two minutes.

She answered on the first ring.

“Sandy said you wanted to talk to me?”

“I’d like to see you in person so we can talk privately.”

“Oh. Okay. I, um, can’t really go anywhere today, I have to pick up Ally soon, and—”

“Tomorrow’s fine. What time can you be here?”

“Maybe around eleven?”

“I’ll see you then.” She hung up, leaving me with no explanation and the urge to call her back and tell her I wasn’t coming. But there was no way I could do that, which pissed me off. She probably knew it too. That pissed me off even more.

Evan wasn’t keen about me driving all the way down to Victoria when we still didn’t know where John was, but he understood I had to find out why Julia had called. I promised I’d be careful, then proceeded to speculate about a million possible reasons she might want to see me, until he finally said, “Sara, you’ll find out tomorrow. Go to bed.” “But why do you think she—”

“I have no idea. Now go to bed. Please .”

I did, but I stayed awake for hours, wondering what to wear, how to speak. This visit felt so different. She’d asked to see me. She wanted to see me.

The next morning I headed straight down to Victoria after I dropped Ally off at school. I was almost a half hour early, so I grabbed a coffee from a shop near Julia’s house, remembered there’s a public beach close to her place, and drove down that way. As I passed by her house I noticed a woman coming out the side door. She ran her hand through her hair.

No way.

I pulled into a neighbor’s driveway, then watched in my rearview mirror as Sandy crossed the street and got into an unmarked police car. What was she doing in Victoria? She called yesterday and never mentioned it. Of course, I didn’t mention my upcoming visit either. After Sandy drove by I pulled out and continued to the beach. For twenty minutes or so I stared out at the ocean, sipping my coffee and thinking about what I’d just seen. They might’ve been going over the case, but the timing seemed odd.

I drove back to Julia’s house. She smiled briefly as she answered my knock, her lips tight against her teeth. Even though it was the middle of June, she was dressed all in black in a long skirt and a sleeveless tunic. She looked pale and her bangs were a sharp line against her forehead. I smiled back and tried to make eye contact. See how harmless I am? How lovable? But her eyes flicked away as she ushered me in with a quick movement of her hand.

“Would you like some tea?”

“No, thanks.”

She didn’t offer anything else, just gestured for me to follow her to the living room. As we passed through an enormous kitchen with gleaming marble countertops and cherry cabinets, I spotted two mugs on the counter. I wondered if one had been for Sandy.

The living room was more formal than my taste and as I eyed the white couch and matching love seat I tried to imagine Ally there. The Himalayan cat reclined on a leather ottoman in the middle of the room, glaring at me as it flicked its tail. I sat on the love seat, Julia perched on the couch in front of me and smoothed her skirt down her legs. She gazed out at the ocean for a long time before she spoke.

“I heard you won’t talk to him anymore.”

Where was she going with this?

“That’s right,” I said.

“You’re the only one who might be able to stop him.”

My body tensed. “Would you want to talk to him?”

“That’s different.”

I felt bad for my comment and said, “Evan, my fiancé, we decided it’s too risky.”

She looked hard at me. “I want you to meet with him, Sara. For me.”

I gasped. “What?”

She leaned forward. “You’re their only chance of catching him. If you don’t talk to him, he’s going to kill more people. He’s going to rape and kill another woman this summer.”

We stared at each other. A pulse beat at the base of her throat. The cat leaped off the ottoman and stalked off.

“That’s why Sandy was here today, isn’t it?”

Her eyes widened in surprise and she sat back.

“I saw her leaving, Julia. Did she tell you to say this stuff to me?”

She said, “She didn’t tell me anything.”

We held gazes. I knew she was lying, but she didn’t even blink.

I said, “What about my life? What about my child?”

Her hands shook in her lap. “If you turn your back on this, then you’re a murderer.”

I stood up. “I’m leaving.”

She followed me to the door. “It disgusted me that I had you inside me for nine months, it sickened me knowing you were out there in the world — that something of his lived .”

Her words froze me at the door and I stared at her, waiting for the pain to hit, like when you cut yourself and first see the blood, but your mind doesn’t realize yet how badly you’ve been hurt.

“But if you stop him,” she said, “it will have been worth it.”

I wanted to tell her everything she was saying was unfair and cruel, but my throat was tight and my face hot as I tried not to cry. Then the anger left her face, her body sagged, and when she looked at me her eyes were desperate, defeated.

“I can’t sleep. As long as he’s out there I’ll never be able to sleep.”

I threw myself out the door, slamming it behind me, ran crying to the Cherokee, and jammed into reverse. I tried to call Evan as soon as I was back on the road, but he didn’t answer. After a few miles my hurt and anger had segued into guilt. Was she right? If I didn’t set up another meeting and John killed someone, was I a murderer?

Normally when I drive up the Malahat Highway from Victoria I take it slow and focus on the road — with one side a sheer drop and the other a rock wall, there’s no room for error — but today I was speeding around the corners, my hands gripping the wheel. When I reached the summit and started down the other side where the road opens back up into two lanes, I called Sandy.

“That was low, even for you.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You know damn well.” As I came too close to another car on a sharp bend I forced myself to slow down.