For Twelve Month and a Day

But did he even want to hide it, if she was sweet on him?

It sure would be nice to feel that kind of intimacy again, Jerry admitted to himself. And he did like Megan as a friend, something he'd always told himself he ought to have first before even thinking of romance. It had never really worked out that way before, but that was no reason why it couldn't work with Megan. Especially if she was as beautiful in the altogether as Sarah had said. She was quite pretty in her clothes. That dark pageboy haircut had, he now confessed, caught his eye more than once. So had her girl-next-door smile, which he now knew would never be quite the same for him.

By the time he got home, he was sorely tempted to do what he hadn't done all year, even though he'd had all these months of living alone. He'd given up on even trying to avoid imagining what Sarah had seen a few hours earlier, and he was finding it more enticing by the minute. His mind was just about made up to let go and have some fun when he stepped into the bedroom and turned the light on.

There it was on his bedside table. The photograph. The first thing he saw every morning and the last thing he saw before he turned the light out at night. Janet and himself, standing by his car, New Year's Eve two years ago. Though he'd already unbuttoned his pants, Jerry lay back on his bed without undressing any further and picked up the picture. He didn't really want to, but it was an unstoppable instinct.

Janet was wearing black in the picture. Janet always wore black. It fit her angry demeanor all too well -- even now, Jerry couldn't deny that. On that very New Year's Eve trip, they'd argued all the way across North Carolina about whether it was fair to have public schools for girls only. Janet, of course, had been very much in favor and had called him every variation on the term "male chauvinist pig" that he'd ever heard for disagreeing with her. It's not the same as with boys, honey! Women are oppressed, we're entitled to special favors!

But for all that, by the time they'd gotten to their hotel in Atlanta, her outrage had simmered down to the mild anger that was her normal setting. Of course she'd wanted to make love as soon as they had the room to themselves, and of course she'd have whined if he'd told her what he'd really been thinking -- that he didn't particularly want to make love to someone who considered him a sexist pig -- so he'd capitulated as usual.

Almost.

He was pretty sure that was the time when she'd dropped the bomb just as she was guiding him inside her: "I wish we were making a baby."

Whenever she'd said that, it had brought everything to a crashing halt. Jerry loved kids, but he'd never wanted one with Janet. If it were a boy, he'd have had to grow up being constantly told he was pure evil and probably a rapist in training. If it were a girl, she'd have grown up hating men just as much as her mother had. The world didn't need either of those.

Jerry knew what Janet was. He knew she had problems. He knew he should have broken up with her months before.

But he hadn't. And he knew why he hadn't. She did have redeeming qualities, as that same photograph showed: a willingness to drop everything and drive hundreds of miles just like he had, a sense of adventure that he could still see in her eyes in the picture now. If she was angry, it was a righteous anger, and he'd always admired her for her convictions even if some of them were overkill. And the lovely weekends with her family, and the long afternoons at the coffeehouse...

It wouldn't have worked forever. But it would have worked longer than the time they'd had. Maybe he should have broken up with her, but he hadn't. And that was that.

Jerry put the photograph back on the bedside table, undressed and got in bed. He gave no more thought to Megan or of doing anything about any thoughts of her.

Ellen was already at the community centre when Megan arrived for the youth group meeting the next morning. Megan anticipated Ellen's reaction well before she stepped into their office and took her coat off. But she had to struggle to keep a straight face all the same.

Sure enough, Ellen took the bait. "Megan! A dress?"

"Why not?" Megan asked, looking down at the plaid dress she hadn't worn all year that she could recall. "It's a nice shade for October, isn't it? And it's warm with tights underneath."

"You're not going to impress him, Megan," Ellen said. "At least not enough to ask you out."

"I don't know what you're talking about." But Megan could feel her lips curl into a smirk that showed she did in fact know.

"Megan, I'm not joking. I told you yesterday, you do not want to go there. I like Jerry too, but he's..."

"Oh, show a little optimism," Megan said. "Coming to the meeting?"

"I feel like I should go there to chaperone you," Ellen grumbled. "But no." She turned her attention to her computer as Megan left for the meeting. It was ever so tempting to just tell her Jerry was resolved to living like a monk and why. But it wasn't her story to share.

Megan had to admit that she did feel a little overdressed among the jeans-and-sweatshirt clad teenagers who all wished her a good morning when she stepped into the meeting room. But it was worth it for the shy but admiring look she got from Jerry when he arrived. "Hi, Megan," he said. "You're looking beautiful today!"

"Thank you!" Megan said, happily acknowledging the expressions of agreement from several of the kids.

"Got plans for after the group?" Jerry asked as he took off his coat, to reveal he was dressed just as casually as the kids were.

"No, I just felt like wearing something pretty," Megan lied. "Why not, you know?"

"Excellent attitude," Jerry said. Then he opened his notebook and was all business. "So, how are we all feeling this fine Sunday?" he asked the kids. "Let's go around the circle with our updates. I'll start. I had another great week at work and a lovely art class with the little kids yesterday, and I've been thinking a lot about how much I loved Halloween when I was their age."

The conversation went counter-clockwise, so Megan was last. "Well, I also had a pretty good week at work, and Jerry, I've been thinking of how much I still do love Halloween!" This made some of the kids laugh, but Jerry looked a bit uncomfortable. "I'm really looking forward to our party here next weekend, and Jerry, I hope you are too."

"We'll see." Jerry didn't look at her as he said it, and Megan recalled all too well what he'd admitted last night at the gym about that phrase -- a nice way of saying no.

She didn't have much time to dwell on it, though, for Jerry plowed ahead with the guided discussion. But that only increased her affection for Jerry. Some of the kids had major problems, and he handled them with grace and humor. "If there's one thing I've learned since I moved out here," he said at the end of the meeting, "it's that there's lots of help available if you need it. Don't be afraid to ask, and especially don't turn to booze or drugs, all right? You have my number if you need me."

The kids stood up with a chorus of thank-yous, and soon the room was clear but for a few who wanted a private word with Jerry. Megan busied herself putting the chairs away so as to avoid any pretence of eavesdropping.

She had the room nearly clear by the time the last of the kids had left. "That was beautiful, Jerry," she said. "You really know how to connect with those kids."

"Thanks," Jerry said. "I had a great teacher just before I moved here, I learned a lot from her."

"Where was that?" Megan asked.

"In jail."

Megan laughed. "Oh, all right, if you don't want to tell me, that's fine."

"Thanks."

"Listen, I hope I didn't make you uncomfortable talking about the Halloween party," she said.

"Oh, it's fine, really." He smiled to let her know he meant it. "It does sound like a lot of fun, and I found out last night that yes, Sarah and Randi are coming."

"I take it you're still planning to give it a miss, are you?"

Between her lovely appearance and the look of hope on her face, Jerry wanted to cry. But he remembered last night. "I think I'd better, Megan," he said. "I'm sorry."

"No, it's fine!" Megan said, though she felt the opposite. "I'm just -- I wish, whatever it is holding you back..." All at once, she was sure all the pieces had fallen into place. "Oh my God, Jerry, are you in recovery? Alcoholism? Is that why you didn't want to tell me about where you learned to lead a meeting like this?"

"I did tell you where I learned, Megan."

"You said 'in jail', Jerry. You weren't really in jail!"

"Oh yes I was." Jerry turned and left without another word.

He'd driven to the community centre even though it was only two blocks from home, so that he could leave straight from there. He couldn't have known what a good call that would be, he now realized, as it allowed for a quick getaway with no more questions or disbelief from Megan. He didn't particularly like leaving her that way, but if she was interested in him, then she needed to know anyway. It was a small town. He was surprised she hadn't already heard. As he started the car and turned the heater on against the October chill, he told himself it was just as well.

Jerry gunned the car slowly through the streets of town, and then out to Route 163, where he could finally put it in high gear.

It was a new car, purchased with the settlement that had been waiting for him once he'd gotten out of jail. His old car, the one in the photograph by his bed, had of course been totalled. That had inspired a stubborn love of his new car, a welcome reminder that Johnson Spivak hadn't destroyed everything. Just almost everything.

A year ago this week. Jerry looked forward to the day when he might not be constantly aware of how long it had been. That day wasn't here yet. The events of last October always came flooding back to him when he was on his way to visit Janet, and this slate-gray Sunday was no exception. As hard as Jerry tried to sing along with the radio and imagine he was driving somewhere else for a change, the unwelcome memories came back as fast and thick as ever.

He hadn't wanted to go out to dinner that night. "We can order out for pizza if you don't feel like cooking," he'd told Janet.

"Already did that the other day," she'd said. "Besides, I want to get out of the house. Come on, get some clothes on and I'll treat. How about a steak?"

A steak had sounded a lot better than whatever Jerry might have scared up in their kitchen, and he knew the place she was thinking -- a favorite steakhouse out by the mall. Besides, he'd seen Janet eyeing the pile of Halloween decorations on the floor as if threatening to make him put them up now if he wouldn't take her out to eat. And so he had followed her directive and gone in the bedroom to change.

After putting on jeans and a nice pullover, he'd come back to the living room to put his sneakers on. That hadn't gone unchallenged. "Honey, those aren't appropriate," she'd said.

"We're not going to the Ritz, are we?" he'd asked.

"But those are sneakers!"

"It's a suburban strip mall, Janet. Don't be silly."

"Honey, come on!"

"Janet, it's the weekend, it's a casual place, I'm not interested in dressing up. Either get over it or let's eat here!" Those words rang out as loud and clear as yesterday in Jerry's memory now. If only she had stood her ground on her silly hang-up!

But she hadn't.

She'd still been whining about how they were sure to be turned back at the door when they got to the red light at Maple Street. Jerry, having felt he'd won the battle just by getting out the door in his sneakers, had let her go right on ranting without paying it any mind while he waited for the light to change.

The light had changed. That he knew, because he'd had to watch the video in court. The light turned green, he had the right of way, and he hadn't even let his foot off the break until then.

"You know, there's still time to go back and change --"

Those were Janet's final words. Nothing else was clear about the moment Johnson Spivak's Cadillac had roared through the red light and plowed into Jerry's passenger side. Jerry had no clear memory of being pushed halfway down the block before coming to a stop, or about stumbling out of the car and seeing the crowd gathering from the park. He had no idea what he'd been thinking in those long seconds. But he did remember Janet's "go back and change" directive, whatever the reason.

He did, however reluctantly, remember seeing Janet's lifeless body sprawled across what was left of the passenger side, her neck at an angle he'd never seen before and never wanted to see again. He also recalled Johnson Spivak stumbling out of his car, unable to even walk around the wreck in a straight line, looking at the two cars as if they were a museum exhibit of some sort.

Worst of all, he recalled Johnson Spivak's first comment. "Man, my dad's gonna kill me. His Caddy..."

Jerry didn't have any clear memory of what happened next, but he didn't deny having done just what the witnesses said he'd done. Maybe that was because he wanted to believe he had done it, impossible as it seemed. In any event, someone had laid Johnson Spivak out with a punch hard enough to break his jaw, and had beaten him so bloody that the first cops on the scene had thought he'd been injured in his car, and had broken his nose and an eye socket, and had done enough damage that there was some question about his survival when he'd gotten to the hospital. Some question, unlike Janet, who was unquestionably dead.

Jerry's own next clear memory was of waking up in jail, with blood still on his clothes. He remembered his first meeting with Officer Wright, whom he would get to know very well indeed over the next few months. "I've got to arrest you, but I wish I could give you a medal," Officer Wright had said. "Ain't one thing I'd have done differently if I'd been in your shoes."

Officer Wright had gone easy on Jerry through those few months, even bringing him a slice of chocolate cake on Christmas. "My mother insisted," he'd told Jerry. By then they'd known Johnson Spivak was going to live, and to stand trial for drunk driving and vehicular manslaughter. But it was February before Jerry was set free. He'd memorized the newspaper article announcing charges were dropped against him. "I can't imagine any jury convicting him and I'm not sure I'd even want to ask them to," the DA had said.

Jerry had never re-entered the apartment he'd shared with Janet, except to pack up. He'd spent a few weeks slumming with friends and looking for new jobs, but his local notoriety had made that a longshot at best. It was Sarah who'd suggested he move out to their town when she and Randi had come to help clean out his apartment. "It's a small town, but I think you'd like it a lot," she'd said. "We have a spare room, and it's yours until you get on your feet."

Jerry'd had his doubts, but he hadn't seen any other options. Sarah was right, he now admitted as he pulled off the highway and steered for the graveyard. The move had done him a world of good.

The one thing it hadn't done -- couldn't do -- was shake his sense of loyalty to Janet. Perhaps he should have broken up with her, but he hadn't. And if he had...well, Johnson Spivak quite likely would have killed someone, but it wouldn't have been her.

If he had turned back and changed into his Hush Puppies...

There was a light rain as Jerry got out of the car, but that only seemed fitting. The dying grass wasn't wet yet as he walked three rows up and five rows over, as he'd done nearly every week for a year. Her grave looked just as it always had, as he set yet another red rose against the headstone and sat down just before it to pay his respects.

An audible sigh made Jerry whip his head around both ways. But he was alone.

Or was he?

"Honey, is that you again? Can't you see this isn't helping either of us?"

Jerry's eyes grew as wide as saucers, and now he stood up to get a better look around. There was no one in sight. But he'd heard Janet's voice, clear as a bell. He'd know that exasperated, chip-on-the-shoulder tone anywhere.

"Janet?" He whispered her name as if afraid of a reply.

"It is you, honey. Stop that writhing around, no one's going to attack you! But you've got to stop attacking yourself."

"Janet, how..." Jerry did as he was told and once again fixed his gaze on Janet's headstone. "I miss you, baby."

"I miss you too. But I'm in a better place, and your time isn't yet."

Jerry knelt up and grabbed at the headstone with both hands. "Then I'll see you again?"

"It's not for me to say, honey."

Jerry closed his eyes, and he felt the tears coming but he did nothing to stop them. "One last kiss, Janet? Please?"

"You do not want to kiss me in the condition my earthly lips are in now, honey."

Jerry laughed through his tears. "True, I suppose, but..."

"No, Jerry. If I were to kiss you now, it would be calling you home today. I've told you, it's not your time."

"It wasn't yours either! That drunk son of a bitch..." Jerry flopped on his back and punched at the ground with both fists.

"What's done is done, Jerry. You've got a long life left to live, and you need to let go of the past. And of me."

Jerry opened his eyes and gazed up at the gray sky. "You know, Janet, I always thought you'd have said the opposite."

"I would have. But that was then. I had growing up left to do. So do you, and you still can. So go live your life until you are called over here, and let me rest in peace until then!"

Jerry waited several minutes, the light rain still falling on his face and clothes, before he sat up. Silence reigned, and he was still alone. As he stood up, he took one last look at Janet's gravestone -- and nearly fell down again in shock. There, on the grass just before the stone, lay the fresh rose he'd just set there. It was withered and discolored, and the wind blew a petal off now and again.

Jerry knelt down again, close enough to her gravestone to finger the etching of her name, and he cried. He cried like he hadn't cried all year, like he hadn't been able to cry in jail and like he'd been too numb to cry since then. He cried like he might have cried at Janet's funeral if he hadn't been in jail at the time.

When the tears finally started to dry, he lay back on the wet grass and looked up at the sky, and listened for Janet's voice again. There was no sign of it. Was she at rest at last? If so, he daren't disturb her again.

Jerry lay quietly for some time, alone on the ground. At long last he got up and took a final look at Janet's grave, and leaned over to kiss the wilted rose.

Megan chose not to tell Ellen anything about her brief and bizarre conversation with Jerry. A week later as they were getting ready for the Halloween party, Ellen realized her friend hadn't mentioned Jerry at all this week. This pleased her, for she didn't want her best friend's heart getting broken and she'd been getting tired of having to tiptoe around the matter.

Watching Megan prance about their common room in her bra and red tights as she assembled her jack-of-hearts costume did have Ellen tempted to raise concerns about appropriateness for the kids' party. But perhaps it would catch some other guy's attention, she reasoned, and she held her tongue. Ellen's own Dorothy costume having been but the work of a thrifted gingham dress and a stuffed dog and an old pair of black pumps spray-painted red, she was at loose ends and doing her best not to stare. She got up to check her painted-on freckles again in the mirror and make sure they weren't smudged.

Finally, Ellen couldn't help herself. "Are you sure you don't want to wear a more modest costume for the kids' party?"