Chapter 12

On Sunday morning, my parents and I got home from church to find a car sitting in front of our house. When we walked from the garage toward the house, a car door opened and Melissa stepped out. She looked over the hood of the car, as if waiting for a signal of some sort. I stopped when I saw her. My heart was beating fast, and there was an empty feeling in my stomach. Finally, I looked away from her, and continued into the house without acknowledging her.

I figured that if she wanted to talk about something, she could come up and knock on the door, but I wasn't going to make it easy on her by inviting her in.

Finally, after about fifteen minutes, the doorbell rang. My mom opened the door and let Melissa in, and called up the stairs to me to come down. Mom left Melissa standing by the front door instead of inviting her in, an indication of her displeasure in seeing her there.

When I came downstairs, Melissa was standing there, still wearing her long wool coat. Her hair was pulled back into a severe ponytail, and her face was very pale. She looked nervous.

"Hello, Ray," she said hesitantly.

"Hi. Why are you here?"

Tears started to form in her eyes at my harsh words. "I... I need to talk to you."

"Why?"

"Why? Because Lindsey called me yesterday and told me what happened."

"Okay, so Lindsey called you. Why do you want to talk to me?"

The tears spilled over and down her cheeks, but I don't think she noticed them. "I... I... you..." And, like a summer squall overpowering a hot and humid day, her face collapsed into a series of sobs she could not stop. She stood there, hands to her cheeks, looking forlornly at me, and cried.

As hard as I tried to be, I could not be that cold-hearted. I took her hand and led her into the living room, and sat down beside her on the couch facing the cold fireplace. I waited until the squall passed, holding her hand passively, until she took it away to rummage in her coat pocket for a tissue. She blew her nose and wiped her eyes.

"What happened, Ray?" she asked. "I want to hear it from you. I don't want to hear it from Lindsey, or from Brad, or from Marcus, or from anybody else. Just from you. What happened?"

"You want to know what happened?" I was angry, and she was about to be the unfortunate recipient. "Okay, I'll tell you what happened. You hung up on me, that's what happened."

She looked up at me, startled and hurt. Without a word, she stood up as the tears began again, and strode to the front door. She opened the door and never looked back as she walked down the sidewalk to her car, got in, and drove away. The momentary satisfaction I felt when I let my tongue wag before I put my brain in gear left me suddenly, and I felt terrible. Maybe she deserved it, maybe she didn't, but I should have been a bigger man than to let such pettiness take over. I mentally kicked myself, and closed the door.

So of course, like a hangnail or a paper cut you just can't leave alone, Missy's visit gnawed at me all day. By that evening, I was irritable, unfit company for any other human in the vicinity. I did the only thing I could do. I called her.

"Look," I said when she finally came to the phone, "I'm sorry I treated you like that this morning. I really am."

"Don't apologize, Ray. I deserved it. You're right, I did hang up on you, and I never gave you a chance to explain." She sounded subdued, depressed, and near tears again. "I knew I could trust you, and I still doubted. I thought I knew Micki, and I was eager to put all the blame on her. Oh, God, now I have to call Micki and apologize! Oh, God, I was such a raving BITCH to that poor girl!" She started sobbing again.

I heard her mother in the background. "Melissa? Are you all right?"

Missy covered the handset and called out, "Yes, Mother. I'm okay." Then, back to me, she said, "I don't know what to do, Ray. I don't know how to fix this."

"I don't know if it's even fixable, Missy."

She sobbed again. With a hitch in her voice, she finally said, "I'm so sorry, Ray. I love you." She hung up the phone.

Now I really felt like shit.