Part 15 (1/2)

”And did you-the two of you-use any kind of protection? A condom? Or-”

Devon turns to look at Dom, sharply. ”No!”

”He didn't offer-”

”No! It wasn't like that. It just . . . happened. We didn't plan, we . . .” Devon looks back down at her knees, hugs herself. ”I just don't . . . want to talk about it anymore.”

Dom and Devon, they sit side by side, saying nothing for a while. Then Dom says, ”So, you were the one who ended the relations.h.i.+p. Not him.” She's silent again, thoughtful. ”Why didn't you want to talk to him, Devon? See him again.”

Devon swallows. ”I couldn't. I wanted to forget I ever knew him, forget that anything ever happened.”

”Why? Did he hurt you?”

”No! Because!” Devon jumps up, crosses the room, leans against the wall there, her back to Dom. ”Because I made a promise.”

”To whom, Devon?”

Devon's body starts to shake again. She feels the tears in the corners of her eyes, the achy lump in her throat swell. She drops her forehead to the wall, closes her eyes. ”Myself.” Her voice squeaks, her shoulders tremble.

”It's okay, Devon,” Dom says. ”It's okay.”

”No, it's not! Because I promised myself every single day of my life. I promised myself, that I'd never end up like my mom. And when I . . . when I did it . . . with him . . . when I let it happen . . .” Devon's voice is thick, she feels it grating against the lump in her throat. ”Oh, G.o.d! I was just like her.”

Pictures churn in her brain, a jumble of morphing images. His arms. His muscles strong and safe, his hands gentle. His lips touching her face, her lips touching his. She lies back, pulls him over her. Their eyes, so much there. Their hearts beating, their breaths matching, only fabric between them. Her hands. Stroking his hair, his cheek, his back. Her eyes close then, her mind turns off. She lets herself fall away. Lets her body take over.

Devon bites the collar of her orange jumpsuit, feels it rough between her teeth. ”Exactly like her.” Her tears are rolling now, down her cheeks. She brushes her eyes against her shoulder, the motion quick and rough, leaving a wet spot there. ”I hate her!”

There, she'd said it. The relief she feels saying those three words, it's there in her chest, opening a small s.p.a.ce around her heart. Devon hates her mom for leaving her all those nights alone, lying tiny and afraid under her blankets, straining her ears for the sound of a key turning in the lock. Hates her mom for the times when that sound never came, when Devon was left to those solitary mornings, left to dress with clothes she'd pulled from the dirty clothes pile, left to pour Cap'n Crunch and skim milk into a bowl, then lock the door on the empty apartment. Left to walk to the bus stop alone so she wouldn't be late for school. Hates her mom for the times when Devon had tiptoed down the hall, needing her mommy to hug away a bad dream or a scary night sound and finding some man lying there, beside her mom in the bed, the sheets rising and falling with his breathing. Hates her mom for the c.r.a.ppy apartments, the police sirens waking her as they pa.s.sed through the streets late at night, the eviction notices and shut-off utilities, the cigarette smoke that permeated everything, the frozen TV dinners and ramen noodles. Hates her mom for pus.h.i.+ng Brian-the one good guy she ever dated-out of their lives. The man who'd read Devon stories and took her to the library. Who'd watched her soccer games and created that glow-in-the-dark solar system on her ceiling and came to the holiday program at school to hear her sing her one-line solo in Winter Wonderland. Hates her for having to be the person her mom wasn't, for her middle name ”Sky.”

For not being here for her now.

”I think everyone reacts against their parents,” Dom is saying, ”in one way or another.”

Devon turns around. Dom's still sitting on the floor, her face contemplative and sad. Did Devon just tell Dom those things? Had she just opened up her mind and allowed all those memories to spill from her mouth?

”Yeah, I've had to deal with it, too, unfortunately. Not in the same way as you have, but it's that old parent expectation thing. It's why I'm here with you, actually, instead of with my dad in his big Seattle law firm.” When Dom says those last four words-”big Seattle law firm”-her lips twist, and she makes a bitter laugh. But then she pushes off the floor and to her feet, rubs the back of her neck and shrugs. ”It's just tough being someone's kid sometimes.” She checks her watch. ”Well, it's time. I've got somewhere else I need to be.”

Devon watches Dom as she walks over to the table, starts gathering her papers and files together, places them neatly in her briefcase.

”I think we've made some real progress today.” Dom looks over her shoulder at Devon, smiles. ”Good job. Really, really great. I mean it. You've given me a lot to work with.”

Devon looks down at her feet. She feels utterly wiped, suddenly. But also relieved, somehow. She envisions the rubberized mattress, her cell with the toilet in the corner. She could use a nap.

”I've arranged for a psychiatrist to talk with you this afternoon. I know it's a lot for one day, but she's agreed to testify for us as an expert witness at your hearing on Tuesday, and there's just no other time that she can fit in meeting with you. I think you may remember her-Dr. Bacon?”

The woman with the long gray braid. Devon nods yes.

”Can you please look at me, Devon?”

Devon looks up at Dom.

”I need you to be open with her. As open as you were with me just now, okay? The things you told me today, about your mom specifically, I am going to share with her-”

Devon frowns, opens her mouth to protest.

Dom puts her hand up. ”Look, nothing that you're going to tell Dr. Bacon will surprise her. Believe me, she's seen everything. She's been dealing with families and their issues for a long time now. It is very important that you cooperate with her. I can't stress that enough. Do you understand?”

Devon nods, mumbles, ”Okay.”

”I mean it, Devon.”

”Okay.”

”Okay, then.” Dom picks up her warm-up top from the floor and puts it on. Zips her briefcase, arranges it on her shoulder. ”Oh, and Devon?”

”Yeah?”

”You never told me his name, you know.”

Devon pulls at her wristband. A flutter ignites in her gut. ”I know.”

”Well?”

Devon brings her thumb up to her mouth, but encloses it in her fist instead.

”Devon. If he's The Boy, then he's the father of the baby.” She pauses, speaks softer. ”Don't you think he has a right to know?”

Devon presses her lips together. Slowly meets Dom's eyes. Dom looks solid, like she could stand there all day if she must, even with that briefcase on her shoulder and places to go on her agenda and that shower to take. ”Connor,” Devon whispers.

Devon's heart made a little flutter when she'd said his name. After all this time, just his name on her lips, and her body reacts.

”Connor.” Dom nods. ”Okay . . . and does Connor have a last name?”

Devon shrugs, looks down at the floor.

”He does, but not today, right?” Dom sighs. ”Okay, Devon. Baby steps. Just Connor. For now.”

Dom puts her arm around Devon's back, gives her shoulder a little squeeze. ”Come on. Time to go. I think your school's already started.”

Devon feels herself lean into Dom as they walk toward the conference room door. Dom reaches for its handle, pushes downward, popping the bolt. She holds the door open for Devon to step through first, taking a step back to let her pa.s.s.

”I'll be in touch soon,” Dom says. She reaches out and gives Devon another light shoulder squeeze. ”Have a good day, Devon.”

Devon watches Dom walk away, round the corner toward the pod's entryway.

”You, too,” Devon whispers.