I would go home ready to tell Jonathan that I couldn’t and wouldn’t take another life. But I would get home and Jonathan would look at me with violet eyes more beautiful than anything else on earth, and I would say nothing. At that time I was more terrified of the coldness in Jonathan’s eyes than I was of my own uncertainty. So I kept quiet, debated with myself, and waited. On a Tuesday afternoon I watched Molly walk into her house with her daughter after having gone to the local market to pick up groceries for lunch. The neighborhood was quiet. People were at their jobs, children at school or daycare. There were no other cars around, and for the first time that week no police officers holding court in her living room. I took a deep breath, got out of my car and walked slowly towards the front door. I looked exactly like what I was, a college student. My dark brown hair was pulled up in a pony-tail, my brown eyes were shaded from the harsh September sun by a pair of glasses. I was. To this day she can recall the first time they were together. He was so attentive, and he could keep a conversation going with her for hours. And that smile of his! He nicknamed her Twinkle, telling her that she had an incessant twinkle in her eyes. She adored the attention that he gave her for so many reasons, but foremost, because it was genuine. He would bury his face in her hair, inhale deeply, and tell her how good she smelled. He would rub her feet and loudly exclaim, ‘Jesus, even the bottoms of your feet are soft!’ He called her his girly-girl. He called her many nice things, and she thrived on all of them, because he followed up his words with actions. Bill was an excellent lover, with strong, muscular arms and legs. There wasn’t a sexual position that TJ liked which Bill could not do with her. Like TJ, he enjoyed using every room in her place to make love — the kitchen counter, against a wall, bent over the dining room table, the sofa, the shower, and sometimes they even.
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