The Guilt That Lives On
A week after Ryan's testimony has kept Marissa's record clean, Julie tries to celebrate the innocent verdict with a homecooked meal. It goes about as well as anything else has in the past month. Considering that Kirsten was her mother's culinary mentor, Marissa isn't too surprised when the smoke detector begins to beep and Julie declares a slight change in plans.
"You pick the restaurant," her mother encourages, grimacing at the blackened mess she's busy wrestling from the oven. "I don't even care if it's seafood."
Marissa bites back a sigh. Julie is acting like forcing herself to eat fried calamari and jumbo shrimp is the biggest sacrifice a person can make. Never mind the fact that Marissa traded one human's life for another just last month and hasn't had an appetite since she spent an hour scrubbing flecks of blood from her nails.
"You're getting too thin," Julie says just then, her brand new maternal instinct kicking in. "Your senior portrait's scheduled for August and you don't want to look like a skeleton."
"Of course not." Marissa rolls her eyes. "But I'm not really hungry, Mom, maybe we could skip the celebration dinner?"
Julie pauses. "I see. You know, Marissa, if you're really that opposed to spending time with me, you can just say so. No need to go on a hunger strike. I'll order you a pizza and go out with some of the girls from the club."
"Mom …" Only Julie Cooper could turn her daughter's lack of appetite into a personal attack against her. "No, don't do that. I want to go out with you. How about that Italian place you're such a fan of?"
Julie positively beams at the prospect of her favorite fettuccini dish. "Well, if you insist."
The thing about Julie, Marissa thinks as they gather their purses and head for the car, is that her self-absorption isn't an act. She legitimately thinks the universe revolves around her; that you're for her or against her, and God help you if it's the latter. There is no room for shades of gray in her world.
Which is why she doesn't understand Marissa's guilt. She's been declared innocent of the crime she committed and therefore, it just doesn't matter anymore. So what if someone is dead because of her actions? So what if there was a long, trembling moment just before she pulled the trigger where she thought I don't have to do this and then did it anyway?
Trey is dead. In Julie's eyes, he is collateral damage. He posed a problem and now he doesn't. As for his brother, well, Marissa has been forbidden from ever seeing Ryan again, under penalty of death. And although she's sure her mother would never actually lift a finger against her, she knows from personal experience that Julie has a variety of ways of making someone so miserable that death would be the preferred alternative.
"Well, this is lovely," Julie is saying as the maitre'd pulls out their chairs and pours her a glass of Merlot. "Just what we needed to put this nasty business behind us, a girl's night out and –"
Marissa hasn't really been listening, but the sudden lack of Julie's forced chatter brings her back to attention. Her mother's mouth is still opening and closing, but there is no sound coming out. It's a huge improvement, she thinks, and then she follows Julie's line of sight and realizes why she's paused.
Everyone in the restaurant is staring at them. The evening meal crowd at DaVinci's is of high caliber; it's the hot spot for some of Newport's finest. They come early and stay late, lingering over a third glass of wine or a twelve dollar dollop of sorbet to exchange gossip. And right now, Marissa is the number name on everyone's lips.
"Shouldn't she be in prison?" one wealthy wife whispers to another, not bothering to conceal her disdain.
"Wanted for murder last month," a businessman explains to a group of out of town associated. "Shot a boy in the back."
"From Chino, no less," another Newpsie confirms.
Julie, for all her faults, is not a weak woman. She straightens her spine, squares her shoulders, and summons a smile. "I think I feel like something new tonight. Maybe I'll wait and hear the specials."
Marissa hesitates. It isn't fair to subject her mother to all this just in the name of pretending thinks are okay. As much as Marissa sets hardly any store in Newport's hierarchy, she knows Julie has fought long and hard for her position in it. "You know what, Mom? Why don't we go back to our place and just pig out on whatever junk food we can find?"
"Are you sure?" Julie glances around at the hostile stare and bristles. "Because these people do not dictate how we spend our time, Marissa."
"I'm sure. Besides," she adds, raising her voice to be sure the clientele hears, "I heard Helen Richards got food poisoning here last week. Something in the sauce."
The conversations around them quickly grasp on to the new development and, as the murmured accusations and claims of feeling 'off' begin, Marissa leads her mother to the exit with a smile on her face.
XXX
Ryan has lost to Seth in seven different video game fight-to-the-deaths and is about to call it quits when Summer arrives. "Boys, boys, boys," she chides gently upon finding them glued to the TV. "This is not what people do on Friday nights."
"She's right, man." Seth nods sagely. "I'm ashamed. We're way beyond this on the cool scale. If the scale is one to ten, we're twenty. If it's like the Richter, we're ten point five, baby."
"Honey?" Summer interrupts. "We get it."
Ryan hides his chuckle with a cough and shifts to provide Summer a seat on the couch between them. She settles herself in gracefully and pats his knee, putting every nerve ending in his body on high alert.
He blinks at his body's reaction to her touch. This is Summer Roberts, here. His almost-brother's girlfriend, his almost-girlfriend's best friend. The girl who refused to acknowledge him as anything other than 'Chino' for the first three months of knowing him. The one who wrinkles her nose at even the word 'dirt', has never repeated an outfit in all the time he's known her, and who is wrong for him in every possible sense.
So why should the lightest touch of her fingers on his knee send his mind into a tailspin? Why should he find himself zeroed in on her mouth and unable to look away as she holds a murmured conversation with Seth?
"Ryan? Hello? Earth to Chino." Exasperated, Summer snaps her fingers a few times inches from his nose. "There you are. Any suggestions?"
"Suggestions?" He doesn't have the slightest idea what they've been discussing. "For what?"
Summer's eyes roll. "For something to do tonight? Preferably – and by preferably, I mean definitely – something that doesn't involve the television screen, the couch, or even this house."
"The … Bait Shop?" He immediately regrets the suggestion. There are too many memories housed in the local club, too many good times shared between the four of them over drinks and loud music. But Summer's eyes are lighting up and he doesn't want to dim the spark.
"Great!" she approves, in obvious delight. "I'll call Coop, see if she's free from house arrest yet."
"Yeah, it'll be just like old times," Seth nods, grinning at the idea of all of them being together again. These last few weeks have been hard to take, all the tension and the obvious missing pieces and the walking on eggshells. He thinks it'll be nice to feel normal again.
"We should leave her alone," Ryan vetoes. Both members of the super couple turn pouts on him. "She needs more time, you guys. She'll let us know when she's ready."
Summer frowns. "More time? It's been over a month. I say she needs to get out and have some fun for a change."
"Well, you'd probably have a different opinion if you'd been the one to kill someone," he says, more harshly than he meant to, and feels bad at her wounded expression. "Sorry. I'm sorry, look, I'm not trying to be –"
"It's cool." Summer fends off his apology with one raised hand, her eyes darting around the room to avoid his gaze. "My fault. I was being insensitive. Too much time with Seth here, I guess. Listen, I'm actually not even wearing a good outfit, so I'm gonna head home and check in with my Dad and leave you guys to your male bonding rituals. See you tomorrow?"
She stands, and Ryan feels the broken connection pinch his heart, the first thing he's actually felt in weeks. "You don't have to," he begins, lamely, wanting her to stay, wanting her thighs to keep brushing against his, but it's too late. She's heading for the door and looking back. "Leave."
He sighs and, with Seth's troubled eyes on him, drops his controller and goes to the front door to watch her taillights disappear into the night. Story of his life. Just when he's grown used to someone being around, he screws up and sends them running and he's just as lonely as ever.