Tigers, Not Daughters - Samantha Mabry Page 0,26
shouted Jessica’s name. He was far away now. Jessica could hear some of the other people, too, shouting and laughing up in the choir loft. Someone screamed, scared by something or nothing. Someone else laughed. John shouted Jessica’s name again. Then he barked it out, like he was angry, like he was through, like he didn’t want to play this stupid game anymore.
Jessica’s phone buzzed. She reached in her pocket to turn it off completely, and then continued to lie there, barefoot and with her ankles crossed. She interlaced her fingers on top of her stomach, listening.
She’d nearly fallen asleep when she heard the door to the cathedral open and footsteps come up the aisle. When she opened her eyes, she saw Peter Rojas’s scuffed-up off-white sneakers approach and then come to a stop. Then Peter sat on the pew, right above Jessica.
“What are you doing?” Jessica whispered.
“I found you,” Peter said. “I’m supposed to hide with you.”
“Shouldn’t you be at work?”
“I called in sick tonight.”
Jessica clucked, mildly impressed that Peter had it in him to lie about anything. “You called in sick for this?”
Peter didn’t reply, just shifted in his seat. Jessica waited. Peter didn’t move.
“Go away,” Jessica said. “Please.”
“I don’t think that’s how this game works.”
Jessica returned her gaze to the coin-sized wad of gum above her face, and when it was clear that Peter really wasn’t leaving, she sighed.
“So,” she asked. “Do you still sing?”
“No.” Peter laughed. It sounded nice, had rhythm, like a stone skipping across water. “Not really.”
“Why not?” Jessica asked. She couldn’t help herself. “You used to be really good at it.”
She was teasing, but she wasn’t lying. Peter had been in the show choir, a group that went to nursing homes and Jewish community centers to sing pop standards and show tunes for old people. Jessica knew that Peter’s friends gave him unending amounts of shit for it, but he never seemed to care.
“That’s kind of a long story,” Peter replied.
The wooden pew squeaked as Peter again shifted his weight, and if she’d been a kind person, or even a normal person, she would’ve asked to hear the long story. It’s not as if, in that moment, either of them had anything else to do, and Jessica found herself genuinely curious. If someone had enough musical talent to make people listen and clap along, what would it take to stop? That was a good question, but it never made it even close to the tip of her tongue. The question buried itself deeper and deeper inside her, the words more and more unsaid and unshared. Seconds ticked by, and pipes continued to bang somewhere in the depths of the church. The silence stretched out, but it wasn’t awkward because Jessica didn’t believe that any silence was awkward.
However many minutes later, the cathedral doors opened.
“Game’s over,” Peter said quietly.
Voices exploded into the cathedral, ricocheting off the stone, so loud and wrong-sounding that Jessica winced. She scooted out from under the pew but stayed sitting on the tile floor.
“Holy fuck!” Jenny cried out when she saw Jessica. “There you are. We were seriously about to leave without you.”
Everyone was there, including John. Jessica gave him a bland smile.
Peter stood. “I just found her. Just like, a minute ago.”
“Well, good.” Jenny threw up her hands. “Game over. Let’s get the hell out of here.”
John asked Jenny to wait while he walked Jessica to her door. During the ride back, John had said nothing about how Jessica had ignored him in the church when his feet had been inches from her face. Instead, he’d just sat in the back seat of the Buick, with his arm slung across Jessica’s shoulders, and shot the shit with Jenny. Was her brother still dating that girl? Did he like his new job? That’s cool. That’s cool.
It wasn’t until Jessica was reaching for her keys that John finally spoke.
“Were you thanking Peter Rojas for saving you the other day?”
Jessica froze, her fingers grazing the door knob. “I