Desi Gaand

“Hi. How are things?”‘Shitty!’ I wanted to say, and not in Russian. I also wanted to tell her I missed her and wanted to see her, but saying that might only make things worse. At this point, though, I wondered what ‘worse’ might be.“OK. How are you doing?”“I’m getting used to the routine and how different things are here from West Monroe.”Her answer was flat, and she sounded disinterested. I didn’t have a clue what to say next. I felt as if I was walking through a minefield, where any misstep could blow up in my face. I wanted to scream that I loved her. But, it was better to just say it gently.“Jos,” I said softly.“Don’t, Mike. It’ll just be harder.”“Why?”“I need time. I’ll see you at Thanksgiving.”It was ALREADY difficult, and saying it wasn’t going to make it worse.“I love you, Jos, no matter what.”“I know.”I let out a sigh, “Fine. I’ll see you in November.”I replaced the receiver in the cradle without waiting for a response and sagged down onto the couch. I had known in my heart. In the end, she'd told Jonas that she wanted to go back to church. There, she'd seen Elliot again. By the first week of sophomore year, Elliot had declared that they were boyfriend and girlfriend again and that he intended to marry her. It was like nothing had ever passed between them. And, Elliot had been a perfect, Christian gentleman ever since.Comparably, Thule was a savage. Just because he'd forced Marigold to give her consent, it didn't make her feel any less violated than if she'd been raped, she decided. Lying on her bed, now fully dressed, she entertained fantasies of turning him in to the police or turning the tables on him and forcing him to do what she told him. She found herself unable to come up with anything suitably humiliating to tell him to do.Seeing that the sun was now tinging the eastern sky pink, Marigold headed downstairs. Jonas was already down at the kitchen table, looking over some sort of reports. For a man in his position, he seemed to do an awful lot of.
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