Within seconds the rain soaked through my clothes. The wind cut through my skin like knives.
“Melissa! Please!” I pounded on the glass door. “It’s freezing!”
Inside I could see her silhouette calmly sipping a glass of wine while watching me.
She was enjoying this.
I looked around desperately. The storm had emptied the neighborhood.
Except for Mrs. Parker next door.
The elderly widow stood behind her window, watching. Our eyes met.
Help me, I mouthed.
Her face hardened.
Then she closed the curtains.
The rejection hurt almost as much as the cold. In neighborhoods like ours, appearances mattered more than truth.
As long as the lawns looked perfect, nobody asked questions.
I wrapped my arms around myself, shivering uncontrollably. My fingers went numb. My head spun.
Where are you, Dad?
My father, Mark, was a corporate attorney downtown. Since my mom died he buried himself in work, staying late every night.
Which meant I was alone with Melissa.
Maybe he didn’t know what she was really like.
Or maybe he chose not to.
I curled against the brick wall, waiting.
Then headlights appeared through the rain.
A dark Ford pickup rolled into the driveway.
My dad’s truck.