Night, Forgotten: Draft 1

Chapter 23: Now

Earlier tonight, my home felt like the last place I wanted to be. But now, facing a livid Carmen and a darkly fuming Marcus, I wish I could be back in my own parlor with Thomas. Even eating alone in the kitchen with Owen's heavy absence or making tense small talk with Diana would be preferable to sitting here with the Dolans during this moment in their marriage.

Luckily, Carmen just implied that Marcus might be Thomas's biological father, and the heft of her accusation means I haven't yet been required to explain what I was doing snooping at their window. I wrack my brain, but I can't think of a reasonable answer to any of the many potential questions they will have for me. It wasn't my intention to end up at their house or to overhear their fight.

But here we are.

Carmen stands rigid in the family room doorway, exactly where she stood when I approached their house about ten minutes ago. But now, instead of watching them through the window, I am sitting next to Marcus on the couch. Carmen stares us both down. It's not an ideal seating arrangement, considering the circumstances.

"Carmen," Marcus begins. "I already told you what happened that night. Way back when it happened I told you!"

"I know," she snaps. "You both had a pretty neat little story, didn't you?"

"It wasn't a story." The words land deliberately; he's trying hard to be patient, maybe for my sake. "I found Julie behind the house, in the woods, cleaned her up – I've told you all this."

I listen to Marcus carefully, hoping there will be some new bit of information sprinkled in about the night that he found me. The night of their Christmas party, almost a year earlier. The night I can't remember.

But Marcus is done talking. He shrugs, wrapping up with, "She never remembered anything."

"Yeah, isn't that convenient." The bitterness that laces Carmen's voice is unmistakable.

I lean forward on the couch. "Carmen," I insist, "It's not like I haven't been trying." Although as the words leave my mouth I realize they're not exactly true. At first, it seemed like all I ever did was try to remember what happened the night I was attacked. But ever since Thomas's birth, it hasn't seemed as important to remember the details of how he was conceived.

Oh, well. I don't feel particularly compelled to be truthful with Carmen.

"Convenient?" Marcus doesn't acknowledge that I've spoken at all. "What are you even saying?"

Carmen stands completely still. Tears are streaming down her face, but her voice is level and deliberate. "Is it because I can't get pregnant?" She takes a step closer to the couch where we are sitting. "Was it – was it on purpose?!"

Marcus just stares at her, his mouth hanging open. I'm not sure if he even knows I'm still in the room. "You think..." He can't finish the question. I have never seen a person so baffled by a turn in conversation.

Carmen's voice sounds like poison. "I think you knocked up our slut neighbor and I am asking you if it was on purpose."

Marcus sucks his breath in sharply. "Don't talk about Julie that way."

"It's okay," I say softly, absolutely shocked that he is coming to my defense in this moment.

She scoffs at him. "I'll talk about her however I want to. She lied to me and you're sitting here lying, too."

At this point, it doesn't even seem worth it to unpack whatever it is that Carmen is accusing me of lying about. I don't want to be here anymore, witnessing them throw down about each other's infidelities – real or perceived.

But neither of them seems willing to let me leave. I consider whether I could get away with just bolting for the door.

It's not like our friendship is going to survive this, anyway.

"Oh, I'm lying?!" Marcus's face changes as he remembers why they're fighting in the first place. "You're the one fucking around with fucking Donny, Carmen. And acting like I did something wrong." He snorts aggressively and sits back, crossing one ankle over the other knee and folding his arms across his chest triumphantly.

I can tell that Carmen is trying hard to make her face unreadable. She doesn't yet know how much Marcus knows. "Don't change the subject. And – don't be stupid. You know that's not true."

My eyebrows are probably shooting off the top of my forehead. Carmen must not have recognized me in the woods when I saw her and Donny the other day, after all. Because if she knows that I saw them, she couldn't possibly have the audacity to lie about it in front of me.

I look over to see if Marcus is buying this.

He's not. His eyes narrow to slits and his face darkens. "I know that it is true, Carmen. Because I have proof." He pauses just to torture her, then snarls, "I installed cameras over a year ago, all over this property."

"You did?" She asks a little too casually, revealing her alarm.

Marcus nods slowly, a smug smile creeping across his face. "Yup."

Carmen sees his smile, too, and recovers quickly. "Well," she clears her throat. "If you installed them over a year ago, then I guess you must have footage from the night of the Christmas party."

I'm sure my face looks as horrified as I feel.

Marcus nods again, still smiling nastily.

"Good." Now Carmen is smiling, too, and she lowers herself onto an ottoman. "Um, where did you say you found Julie that night? Out in the woods, right?"

Marcus's face quivers slightly. "Yes. How many times have I have told you this, now? I found her out by the shed."

"Out by the shed," she repeats. "So – let's go look at it."

"What?" Marcus and I ask at the same time.

Carmen rolls her eyes but keeps smiling that sinister smile. "Let's go look at the footage your hidden cameras got from the night of the party. Before you and Julie went out to the shed – sorry! I mean, before you 'found' Julie out by the shed." She makes dramatic quotation marks with her fingers to show that she strongly doubts his version of events.

Marcus isn't smiling anymore. He stands abruptly and claps his hands together. "Fine. Let's go." To no one in particular, he adds, "It wasn't me."

"I guess we'll see who it was, then," Carmen snaps as she trails him down the hallway to his office.

I follow behind them.