Turning Angel

I stare up at the dark ceiling, listening to the clicking of keys and praying that my instinct is wrong. “What does it say?”

“Just a minute. Okay … uh …”

“Read it aloud.”

“Here … ‘A person is guilty of sexual battery if he or she engages in sexual penetration with (A) another person without his or her consent.’ I’m okay there.”

“Keep reading.”

“‘(B) a mentally defective, mentally incapacitated, or physically helpless person. (C) A child at least fourteen but under sixteen years of age, if the person is thirty-six or more months older than the child.’ Thank God.”

Drew sounds so relieved that I’m tempted to let him hang up and get a good night’s sleep. But I’m almost certain that bad news is coming. “Keep reading.”

“Okay. There’s a second paragraph. ‘A person is guilty of sexual battery if he or she engages in sexual penetration with a child under the age of …’”

His voice falters. “Drew?”

“Eighteen,” he whispers. “It says eighteen here.”

“Keep reading.”

“Oh, God. Oh, no.”

“Please read it for me.”

“‘… if he or she engages in sexual penetration with a child under the age of eighteen years if the person is in a position of trust or authority over the child including without limitation the child’s teacher, counselor, physician, psychiatrist, psychologist, minister …’”

Drew’s voice sounds like that of a man being sedated before an operation, a monotone fading into nothingness. “You can stop, Drew.”

He continues as though he can’t hear me over the print screaming from his computer monitor. “‘… priest, physical therapist, chiropractor, legal guardian, parent, stepparent, aunt, uncle, scout leader or coach.’”

“Drew, listen to me. Are you listening?”

Out of a deep well of silence comes a single sob.

“Drew, it’s all right. I know you’re feeling terrible guilt right now. Seeing it written down like that, you may feel for the first time that you’re guilty of a crime.”

“She’s dead,” he says in a shattered voice. “And if I hadn’t crossed this line with her, she’d be alive right now.”

“You don’t know that. You’re not God. Listen to me, buddy. I love you. I love you, and I respect you. You’re just human, like the rest of us.”

“Wait a minute,” he says wetly. “I’m looking for the penalty.”

“Don’t. Leave that for tomorrow.”

“I need to see it.”

No, you don’t, I say silently. It’s going to be thirty years—

“Jesus Christ. It’s thirty years.”

“That’s not going to happen, Drew. I promise you that.”

“Oh my God,” he says with fresh dread.

“What? What is it?”

“For a second offense, it’s forty years. Timmy would be—”

“Turn off that computer! That’s not the real world, Drew.”

“Are you sure?”

“Hell, yes. I was a prosecutor for fifteen years. That’s why you wanted my advice about all this, remember? And my advice is to go to sleep and let me do the worrying for you. That’s what you’re paying me for.”

“Twenty bucks doesn’t pay for much worrying.”

I don’t reply for some time. Then I say, “You saved my life. And you risked your own to do it. If you hadn’t, my daughter would never have been born. That buys you a lot of worrying.”

“You never asked for this.”

“No, but I can handle it. You’ve got to stay in control for me, though.”

“You’re not leaving town or anything tomorrow, are you?”

“No way. Now, what are you going to do about the blackmail issue? Are you going to come clean with the cops?”

“After what we just learned? I don’t know.”

“You’re a smart guy, Drew. Let’s talk about probability.”

“Okay.”

“How often did you see Kate? I don’t mean platonically. How often were you alone with her, intimate with her?”

“Every day. Or night, rather.”

Unbelievable. “For how long?”

“For the last seven months, I guess. Ever since the mission trip to Honduras. After that, we couldn’t stand to be apart.”

“Get out ahead of this thing, Drew. It’s your only chance.”

“I hear you.”

I let the silence do its work for a while. “Do you?”

“It’s Tim that’s holding me back. I don’t want him to have to know about this if he doesn’t have to. I don’t want him to have to go through the grief he’ll get at school because of it. I don’t even want Ellen to have to deal with it, now that Kate’s dead. There’s just no reason anymore.”