Divine: A Novel (23 page)

“She killed my boyfriend.”

“What?” I’m furious. “That’s complete
nonsense. Now, knock it off.”

The entire sorority takes out their cells
and holds them up like lighters waving in the air at the end of a concert; only
the screens all have a photo of Dan, and not a flame.

“That’s your boyfriend isn’t it? I know
it is, because Bridgette said you two were screwing.”

“Hannah! Outside now!” Richard fumes and
points toward the door.

The photo shows Dan with his hands behind
his back, obviously in handcuffs, with an officer to either side of him.

“Oh my God,” I whisper.

“Oh, poor Professor Hallowell. That’s
what you want everyone to believe, don’t you? That this is some surprise and
you had no part in killing Luke?” Hannah says.

“What happened?” I reach for a phone, but
the students move away.

“Murderer,” one utters. “Murderer,” they
start to chant.

Richard takes Hannah by the arm and leads
her to the door.

“You were with him!” she yells. “I know
you were in his car when he hit Luke that night. Margaret said you hated Luke,
she said you hate all of us! I bet you told Bridgette’s brother to do it!”

Oh fuck. I cover my eyes and sit on the
pew in tears. This isn’t happening. It’s impossible. Dan wouldn’t. He didn’t.

The
guy has a foot in his closet and wrote a book about a serial killer. You don’t
know anything about him.

No. I feel like I know everything about
him. He’s been very open and kind, unlike anyone else I’ve ever met. I can’t
believe this, any of it, it doesn’t make any sense.

Luke
attacked Dan’s sister. This is payback.

A boy who wanted to be a priest isn’t
going to grow up to become a murderer. It had to have been an accident.

A
boy who was struck by lightning, as punishment from God for masturbating, could
turn out just a wee bit crazy in the head, don’t ya think?

A chapel full of stares is upon me when I
open my eyes. It’s silent and I immediately feel chilled to the bone. I need to
get the fuck out of here.

I politely excuse myself and head for my
truck. This is complete and absolute bullshit.

“Divine! Where are you going? The service
is about to begin.” I hear Richard’s voice calling from behind. “Don’t leave,
it looks bad.”

I turn to him with both my fists and ass
clenched in anger. My dim-witted-pear-shaped Chair. “To who?” I yell. “You’re
worried that it looks bad for you, not me, right? You don’t want the Trustees
to know the students have complete control of this department. Get stuffed,
Richard! You’re a wussy boy. Deal with it!”

Fuckin’ A, that will get me fired for
sure. I can’t believe I was that rude to another person, that I actually said
those things out loud. In a few hours I’ll weep once it sinks in that I just
destroyed my entire career with those few words, but only after my anxiety
subsides.

“Ahhh. Damn it! What the... you bitch!”

“Go to Hell, Professor Hallowell!” Hannah
shouts as she kicks in the taillight on my truck.

“Stop!” Isn’t there anyone in charge at
this fucking school? Security? I know it’s the weekend, but where the fuck’s
security? I take out my cell and get a photo of her before she runs off.

“Divine, wait.” Richard catches up to me
then bends over with his hands on his knees to catch his breath. “Wait,” he
wheezes. “I saw what happened. File a report and I’ll be a witness.”

I get into my truck and start the engine,
but he taps on my window before I have a chance to drive away.

“What?” I ask in a fuming voice after
rolling down my window.

He sets his hand on my door as if he’s
holding my truck in place, not wanting me to take off just yet. “Div, are you
really dating Daniel Keller?”

“I have things to do. I need to go.”

He stares across the quiet campus;
everyone at the service or still asleep, and then his eyes turn down to the
ground.

“You sound like you know him,” I whisper.

He nods. “He was in some of my classes
years ago. Good student. Quiet. Kept to himself most of the time.”

“That’s the same description people give
the police when they find out a neighbor is a serial killer.”

Richard’s quiet for a moment until I rev
my engine and knock him back to our conversation. Come on, hurry up, and say
what’s on your mind.

“I don’t know if he had anything to do
with Luke’s death, but if it turns out that he did, and the two of you are a
couple... this could be bad for the university. You know how rumors spread. We
can’t have a faculty member on this campus who was involved with someone
who...”

“Don’t say another word.” I cut him off.
Uh, now I’m really perturbed. “You seem to care more about the department than
the people in it. Do you give two-shits about what’s happening in my life
outside of my classroom?” I seethe.

“Of course I do. And I know everything
you just said was because you’re upset. Take a breath.”

“I don’t have it in me to breathe
anymore.” I roll up my window and pull away.

Get
shit on - When you hook up with a guy that you believe to be an angel from
heaven, but it turns out he’s actually the devil in disguise. That’s what it
means to get shit on, Div.

I disagree with you. There’s no way he
did this.

CHAPTER
NINETEEN

Div
Hallowell

My boyfriend got arrested!

0 people like this.

Charlie
Lehmann
Do I know you?
Your posts keep appearing on my news feed.

Violet
Cuddlecock

The guy I’m fucking may have killed
someone! (Sorry, not book related).

947 people like this.

I read the news article on my cell, the same
article the sorority girls displayed in the chapel. It states the owner of a
body shop called the police after the Cherokee was brought in for repairs. The
damage matched those of a possible hit to a bicycle.

Dan was released on bail after seeing a
judge late yesterday and must’ve gone to his parents after that. Fuck, he looks
terrible. The photo of him online was shot on his way into the courtroom, with
his head down and his hands behind his back, definitely appearing morose.

And now I’m almost home after filing a
report about the little doofus damaging my truck. Something I’m sure her rich
lawyer father will either make disappear, or pay for out of his own pocket.
Spoiled brat.

What happened the night Luke died? It was
an accident and unintentional, right?

Are
you asking me?

I’m thinking.

What moron would take his car in to be
repaired if he was responsible? Of course he didn’t do it.

That’s
exactly why he DID take it in. He’s smart. He can use that reasoning as his
defense. It makes him look innocent!

Yeah, then why did he act so upset about
the damage when we got back from the overnight trip?

Are
you listening to me?

No, he didn’t set this up in such a way.
God, I’m so confused! If whatever happened was unintentional, why didn’t he
stay at the scene or come forward sooner? That could mean years in prison. And
what if someone tries to make a case that it wasn’t an accident, but murder
because of Luke’s attack on Bridgette?

What do I do? I have no one to talk to
about any of this. I can’t even process whether I’m supposed to be supportive
and try to speak to him, or back away.

What
about being afraid of the guy?

I’m not. He doesn’t scare me.

Umm,
no? Hello McFly? I’m here deep down inside of you and he scares me!

If anything, I feel sorry for him and his
family.

And
Luke too.

And me.

Feeling
sorry for yourself is a sign of weakness.

“I’m sure having a voice that stirs
constantly in my head is too,” I mumble, toss my messenger bag on the floor,
and lock my front door. His car’s still not out front. My home is still dark.
And my parents are still absent from my life.

I lean against the front door with my
hands behind my back and my head down, mirroring Dan’s online court photo.

“He couldn’t have done this, we went out
to dinner the night Luke Barnes died. It was our first date,” I whisper.

I’m
sure this happened after the date.

But that night I couldn’t sleep and I
walked around and looked in Dan’s bedroom window. Remember? The room was dark
and quiet. No movement. Did he go out? I never noticed if the Cherokee was
missing.

And wouldn’t I have seen the damage on
his car
?

I think back to the mall trip, the ride
up the dirt road, catering at the party, meeting his parents, the drive to the
hotel, everything we did was around nightfall. I may
not
have noticed any damage on those evenings because it had been
dark. Plus we were both in a state of romantic gawking at one another, not
looking over his car. A dent and scratches could have easily been missed.

I feel like running away from this place.
I couldn’t stand being in Pittsburgh after college. Everything was a constant
reminder of my parents and instead of facing the world around me; I took off
and landed here. I may end up doing that again. I’ll resign and start over. I
need to get the fuck out of here.

And
move to where?

Anywhere.

Dream
on. Who do you think you are? Miss Money Bags?
You’re
acting like a kid.

Said the kid inside me.

I flip the light switch and look into my
parents’ faces. The photographs remind me of my colleagues when they comment
that their parents are getting old, and they wish their children would stay
young forever. My parents, on the other hand, never age. Someday, I’ll be a
sixty-year-old woman who holds their pictures in my hands as if they’re my
children. They’ll always be stuck in their early forties until the day I die.

My living room is dead silent. I don’t
‘meh’ or ‘bah’ or speak to the photos in any way, keeping the
miss you guys
and
I’m sorry
words deep inside. I pull four storage boxes from my
closet and take as many photographs as I can from my wall.

Packing?
Just like that?

“No, I’m changing,” I whisper.

Oh,
you said people hate change!

Yes, but it’s inevitable.

After fifty photos are down and packed
away into my closet... I get a beer... I get
two
beers from my fridge and head upstairs to change my clothes.

Fucking birds are
still
chirping out back. They’ve invaded my place just like Dan has
plagued my mind. A bunch of unwanted guests that need to get their next meal
down the road from Burger Castle, not here.

You
led Dan and the birds to your home with a trail of breadcrumbs. They didn’t
just appear out of thin air.

A line of birds have taken over my deck
railing. There’s shit everywhere too. Birds are filthy things.

They’re
disgusting!

I strip, put on a pair of old jeans, roll
the bottom cuffs, pull on a t-shirt, and step outside. The birds screech, then
fly off. Oh lovely, I stepped in bird shit. Isn’t this a wonderful fucking day?
Time to get out the garden hose and clean the poop.

And who knew, bird shit doesn’t wash away
easily.

I get a bucket, add some dish soap, then
grab a bristle brush and proceed to scrub. After twenty minutes and a
hose-down, it’s clean enough for the night. But I’m sure tomorrow they’ll be
back, shitting and chirping. Damn it, I thought this bird thing would be some
fantastical new adventure in my life. Maybe I’ll feel differently when I’m not
in a gloomy mood.

“Stay away, dirtballs!” I call out.

“Blue jays.” I hear a voice below.

Dan.

Run!

He’s walking up the steps.

Run!

I drop the hose and run inside, screaming
my ass off while locking my back door. He’s on the deck, walking toward me.

“Go away!” I shout, pulling down the
window shade so he can’t see inside. There’s a hard knock and I scream again.

Didn’t
you say he couldn’t have done this and that you weren’t afraid of him?

“Div, don’t be scared. Let me explain.
Open the door.” He knocks again.

“Stop knocking! I’m not letting you in!”
My blood’s pumping through my veins in quick bursts.

“Just give me a chance.”

He looked terrible coming up those steps.
A stubbly face, tired eyes, haggard expression, and a slow walk. The guy’s
hurting or in shock, or both.

You’re
beginning to feel sorry for him, but don’t open that door.

“Blue jays,” he repeats. “Aggressive fuckers
who attack and kill smaller birds.”

“And what about you?” I ask.

“I had nothing to do with Luke’s death.”

“Dan, you’re scaring me. I want you to
leave.”

“Just like that, it’s over?”

“I didn’t say that! Give me some time to
think, would you? Your books are about some psychopath who kidnaps and cuts
women to bits! And then he fucks them after they’re dead! And now all this
stuff with Luke. If you were a woman, you’d run too!”

I can hear him sigh and take few steps
away from my door, but he’s not gone just yet.

“So you’ve finished the trilogy, that’s
just great,” he says sarcastically. “That was bad timing, wasn’t it? If you
hadn’t read those books how would you feel about the charges against me? I bet
it’d be a whole different story.”

I peek out my window and luckily he has
his back turned and is looking in the direction of the demolished feeders. I
don’t want to give him any inkling that I might open this door. Nope, not gonna
happen right now.

“Your heart tells you what?” he
continues. “What’s hidden inside of you? I need to hear it. Do
you
think Luke died because of me?”

He doesn’t use the words
killed
or
murdered
, only that Luke died. My gut reaction when I first saw him
was to run, but I still don’t believe he could’ve done this.

His muffled voice seeps through my door
when I don’t respond.

“My books are about religion, nothing
more. The women symbolize my relationship with God and how I felt disemboweled
every time I got off thinking about them. But I doubt, just like you, if anyone
will ever take the time to analyze it. The story couldn’t possibly have a
deeper meaning, right? There could
never
be any symbolism in a story found in that particular genre.”

I hear footfalls down the steps and
quickly open my door.

“Dan, call me on the phone, but don’t show
up in my backyard after being arrested, okay? And just so you know, deep down
in my heart, I believe you’re innocent, but I’m worried I won’t be able to help
you,” I pause and take a deep breath. “And I’m terrified of losing myself in
the process.”

I step back inside and lock my door.

There’s no warm embrace. No kiss. No,
thank God you’re alright.
I have deep
feelings for him, but to hell with running into his arms, pulling him into my
bed, and screwing his brains out just like that. We’ve got some serious shit to
discuss.

He’s
pretty fucked up, isn’t he? I’ll give him an Oscar if he’s faking all of this.
And don’t you feel a little bad for not letting him inside?

You were the one who told me to run.

Uh-huh.
So, tell me again why you listen to me?

“I need to turn off the garden hose,” I
mumble, heading to the sliding glass door next to my kitchen.

“What the hell?” I gasp.

Is
he still here?

No.

A small robin is lying on the back patio.
It’s one of the few birds I can recognize because they’re so common to this
area. The poor thing must’ve flown into the door and now it’s barely breathing.
This is tragic. I should’ve never built those houses.

I step outside and kneel next to it. Its
tiny heart is thumping against its chest a mile a minute. Please fly away. Open
your eyes and get up!

Damn
it. I hate when animals suffer.

“Listen, little thing, you’re not going
to die in my backyard. You were meant to fly, now fly!” I poke it with my
finger and a wing flaps. Then in a sudden rush it’s upright and off the ground,
over my head, and inside my home.

“No!” I shout. “Get out!”

Fuck.
Another home invasion. Dan’s coming for you... the birds are coming for you...
Alfred Hitchcock’s coming for...

It flaps around like a drunken hooligan,
hardly able to get past the
stuff
in
my dining area. Then it flies through my living room, right smack into my front
window with a loud thud.

He’s
dead. Talk about symbolism.

No, he’s not. There he goes, upstairs!

I race to my bedroom where I find the
dirty thing perched in my master bathroom, shitting on the counter.

“You have a big surprise coming to you,”
I say in my best Jack Nicholson voice.

It’s
like having Hannah and Bridgette in here all over again, especially given the
mess it’s leaving.

I open my bedroom door and windows, and then
shoo it out from the bathroom.

The bird swoops down and lands on my bed.
“Please don’t poop on my comforter!”

I take a towel out of the linen closet,
but before I have a chance to trap the feathered foe, it takes flight down my
hallway and into my guest bedroom.

“Get out!” I scream.

It shits on the stomach of one of the
women in my erotic pop-up books, resembling a splash of cum, and picks at a
paper penis.

“Don’t rip that off! You little beast!”

The robin flaps wildly and I pray it
doesn’t peck my eyes out. That can happen, right?

But no, pint-size birdy bolts down my
stairwell and goes berserk around my home. I swear and swing at it for a good
five minutes, waiting for it to flee out my backdoor. Finally, it flutters away
with a paper dick in its mouth.