Drown #10: the mouse, part 3

January 2086. Stephanie Nova is 26, Justin Kim is 25, Keri Riley is 24, Jeremiah Day is 29.

* sensitive content advisory for Drown #10: the mouse, parts 3, 4, & 5


They drove back down to Lakeside Heights the next morning. They had so much to take care of still—jobs to quit, things to pack, bank accounts to transfer. Justin had to decide when his last day at work would be, before he even had his next job lined up. He had to decide what on earth he would do next. Bryson had offered to write him a nice letter of recommendation, but the problem was that Justin hadn't found any jobs to apply for anywhere near Copper Hill, Michigan. And now he could only try to convince himself that moving his family there was still the absolute right decision.

Now that Bryson knew they were moving, Madison would know shortly. Once Madison knew, Keri would find out within seconds. Justin figured he should probably tell her himself.



"I thought I should tell you that we’re moving," Justin told her. "We bought a place."

"You'll have to quit your job? My dad got you that job."

"I know he did and I thanked him for it. He’s giving me a reference for my resume."

"Where are you moving?"

"Uh, north," he said. "We have reasons, but it's nice. It's really nice there. Kind of remote, but we like it."

"Remote? How remote? Is there even an airport?"

"There's one in Duluth," he said.


"Where the hell is Duluth?"

"It's about an hour or two away."

"From home?"

"No, from our house."

"Your house is two hours to an airport? What the hell? That’s not what we talked about. You said you would move to DC so I could be near Lily for some of the year. That’s what you said."

"I said I would think about it. I can’t anyway. Willow can’t leave the state."

"That’s Willow's problem. Not yours, not Lily's."


"Willow's problems are my problems now, and they're Lily's, too."

"So now I only get to see my kid for a few weeks here and there. She already doesn’t know who I am."

"This isn’t just about you, Keri."


"Right," Keri said. "Because it’s about Stephanie."

"We need to do this," he said. "She can't keep running into him, he scares her. It's not healthy for—"

"Funny how when I asked you to quit your job and leave your family and friends to follow me around, you flat out said no. When Stephanie asks you to do the exact same thing, you probably didn’t even think twice about it, did you?"

"Of course, I thought about it."

"For what, like two minutes?"


"So what if I only thought about it for two seconds? I’m trying to be sensible about this, it’s a complicated situation. I wasn’t going to run off with your kid, I wanted to be honest with you. There are things you don't understand. There are things you don’t even know yet."

"If there are things I don't know, it's because you never tell me anything!"

"How can I tell you these kinds of things when you hate her so much? I can't tell you anything when you act like this."


Keri huffed. "Fine, I'm not acting like anything. Now tell me."

"No, you’re not ready for it. Not for all of it. I shouldn’t have told you. Just, no matter how much you spite her, please don’t tell Jeremiah."

"Tell him what? You didn't actually tell me anything."

"Please, Keri. I'm serious."

"Why would I even talk to Jeremiah?"

"I don’t know, you might. It might be an accident. He might run into you, accidentally on purpose, and you might let something slip. You can’t tell him where we are."

"Whatever."

"No, Keri, it’s important. I need you to understand that it’s important."

"Fine, Jesus. Get a fucking grip. How is it suddenly my problem that she married some jerk? It's not my fault."

"You were there when she married him, too. It's your fault, too."

"I'm done with this conversation," Keri said.

She didn't hang up though. She could still hear him breathing, fast and tense. She bit her lip and waited for him to say goodbye properly.

"Okay," he said. "Just... nevermind. Goodnight."


Keri got a bowl of frozen yogurt and a juice out of the vending machine. Then she slammed the door. Hard.

"Where the fuck is Duluth?" she mumbled.


"Minnesota," someone said from behind her.

"Huh?"

"Duluth. It's in Minnesota. You look pissed. Do you want to talk about it?"

"What? No I don’t want to talk about it. And who the hell asked you anyway?"


Justin told Stephanie that he wasn't worried about Keri. Worried wasn't quite the word, but he had been thinking about her. He'd been anxious to know what Keri would say because he knew that she would say something. And she did. She'd say something even more as soon as she saw the place in person.


But he didn't care what she thought and he wasn't going to let her put a damper on their excitement. They deserved to be excited for once. Couldn't they just be happy and safe and excited and in love for even one goddamn minute?


When Justin turned around, he found Stephanie holding her phone and gazing at the wall with a tragic look on her face.


"What is it? Did you hear me say that she hates you? I didn't mean 'hate' exactly. I don't think she hates you. I really don't, even after everything. She's just Keri. She's just bitchy by default."

"It's not that," Stephanie said.

"What then?"

"I got some messages. They must have come while my phone was out of range. There’s two of them."

"From Jeremiah?"

She nodded.

"Worse than the chat I just had with angry Keri?"

She didn't answer. He ribbed her for a laugh but that wasn't going to happen.

"I guess they probably are worse," he said. "Steph, can I see them?"

"They're not nice."

"I know they're not, that’s why I want to see."

She hesitated for a moment, but she handed over her phone.

1/07/2086, 4:36 pm
One day, every other weekend? What the fuck is this? Psychological evaluation? Patterns of abuse? What the fuck are you talking about? This is bullshit, Stephanie. We’re not doing it like that. Are you kidding me? How am I going to drive up here from South Carolina two weekends a month, on active duty? It won’t work and you know it. You’re trying to keep her from me, you nasty spiteful bitch!  

1/07/2086, 4:58 pm
You’re just like all the other whores. I used to think you were better than Bella, but no, you're worse. You're worse because you pretended to be a nice girl. You're not a nice girl. You're a backstabbing whore. And you're way worse because you were never that hot. At least whores are usually hot. You’re just weird and awkward and boring. The most boring lay I've ever had. Your tits are like mosquito bites and you have no ass. You're a loser. You're a nobody. You're a failure. You're a mess. This is all going to blow up in your face, you just watch. You're going to be sorry, you stupid, ugly bitch. And when you're finally sorry, you can go fuck yourself.  

"Where is he?"

Stephanie shrugged, barely moving her shoulders at all, her eyes still closed.

Justin wanted to find Jeremiah and punch him in the face. He wanted to cry, too. He wanted to punch Jeremiah while crying. These words weren't meant for Justin, but they gouged him in the deep place where his love for Stephanie was whole and true and pure, and none of these things were even remotely true. He wanted to reach inside Stephanie's brain and pull out this ugliness and fill it with cotton candy and hugs. He wanted to erase the moment she ever met Jeremiah in the first place.

Jeremiah wasn't even here and he still had his claws in her, and Justin didn't know how to make him go away. Maybe Jeremiah would never go away. Maybe they had already had their one minute of happiness—it was spent and cherished and gone.

"Wait, Steph, you don't actually believe him, do you?"


He pulled her body until she fell into his arms.

"Steffie, no, no, no, you can't believe any of this for a second. Don't believe anything he says. Not ever. He would say anything to get under your skin. None of it is true. Your tits are perfect because they fit right in my hand and nobody else has that perfect tiny mole, and your little ass is adorable. You're beautiful and kind and smart and you can't believe him. Please, don't believe him."


"Don’t delete it, Steph. Send it to your lawyer. Don’t think about it. He’s just trying to scare you. Don’t read any more of them, okay? Just forward them to your lawyer. Don’t even open them. Okay? Promise me you won't open any more of them."

She hesitated for too long before answering.

"Okay," she said. "I won't open them."

—