Chapter Text
It was the car that decided her. The distinctive burgundy car was parked on the street outside of Walter’s house, so Emily pulled up behind and got out of the van before she could think on what she was doing. She hesitated for a moment, hand raised to knock, but Tulip opened the door before she could figure out whether she meant to shit or get off the pot.
“Come in, then,” she said, and left Emily standing at the door. “It’s kind of a mess in here, so we can sit outside.” Walter was snoring on the couch, an afghan tucked up to his chin. A half-empty bag of Alpo slumped in the corner by the kitchen. “Do you want some lemonade?”
“Sure,” Emily said. “Did you get a dog?”
“No.”
***
It was hot for nine A.M., but the lemonade was cold and tart. The grass was patchy and brown from the sun, and scattered with holes. Tulip lifted her chin at these, as if daring Emily to make something of it, but there was nothing to say. The lawn chairs sagged just the right amount, and Emily sighed as she sat, not looking forward to a long day at work.
“How’s your girl?” Tulip asked.
“Hm? Oh, she’s fine. Back at school, right as rain.” Tommy, on the other hand, was shitting his brains out, but Miles had sheepishly agreed to watch him today for her. “It’s the least I can do,” he’d said at the door, which she thought was a strange way of putting it, but she was still mad at him, so she’d just left without saying anything.
“I’m surprised you’re home,” Emily said. “After what happened at the church yesterday?”
Tulip put her glass down, prepared for bad news. “What did Jesse do?”
“Arrested. Quincannon’s men tried to take the church – or Quincannon owns the church land, now? It’s not very clear, really. But they got it, eventually, and Sherriff Root took Jesse away. He… um, he shot off a guy’s penis.”
Tulip snorted, a frown line creasing the smooth skin between her brows. “He would. Who was it?”
“Medium height guy, little chunky around the middle, patchy-lookin’ beard…?”
Tulip howled. “Fuck me, he shot Clive’s dick off?” She clutched her stomach, and laughed till tears came to her eyes. Finally, Tulip took a drink, still snorting. “Doesn’t mean I forgive him, but still… shot off Clive’s dick. Bail should be free, doing a public service like that.”
“I didn’t bail him out,” Emily said softly, watching the ice melt in her glass. “There’s more.”
Tulip sobered immediately, and put her drink down. She put a hand on Emily’s arm. “Tell me,” she said, low, urgent.
“I think… I think Jesse might have killed Eugene Root.”
Emily held her breath, waiting for the explosion. She didn’t know what was between Tulip and Jesse but it was powerful, volatile and dangerous like a downed power line. She thought she’d wanted to know, put her Christian values to good use, learn the worst and forgive it in others, but now… now Emily wasn’t so sure. She saw Tulip’s eyes flick back and forth, processing and discarding replies like poker cards. The hand on her arm squeezed gently, and fell away.
“Yeah. Yeah, he might’ve.”
“Why would he do that?” Emily burst out. “What did Eugene ever do to him? I know – we all know what happened – but that was years ago. Why now?”
“I don’t know,” Tulip said. “Something’s not right, way he’s been treatin’ folks. Treatin’ everyone around him like they were just actors in the Jesse Custer stage show of the century.” She looked at Emily. “I’m sorry for what happened the other night – he didn’t say anything awful to you, I hope?”
Emily laughed once, tart, like lemons. “No, nothing compared to what he said to you. Or to Cassidy, to make him leave. I don’t know where he went that night. He wasn’t with Jesse in the church yesterday, and you know Cassidy would’ve been dying to get a piece of that action.”
Tulip’s face was utterly blank, and Emily thought maybe she was trying not to laugh. “Oh, um, not like that. Not …sexually. Like… Cassidy likes a fight, I think. He would’ve been there, if Jesse hadn’t scared him off.”
“Yeah,” Tulip said in a strangled voice. “Jesse must’ve done something pretty awful to scare away Cassidy.” Her fingers clutched the arm of the chair.
Burnt grass rustled in the hot wind, stirred the loose hairs around Emily’s temples. Sweat trickled down her sternum into her bra. The silence was buoyed up by neighbourhood noises – cars going past out front, birds calling to one another from the trees, the soft hiss of someone nearby watering their garden – but it held something else, a small worn place that Emily rested comfortably in, like a sagging patio chair. She realized Tulip was in the space, too. It’d been so long since Emily had a friend that she didn’t quite recognize it when it came. But this wasn’t smiling and shaking hands with people at the church, and it wasn’t putting up with Miles’ lukewarm missionary fumblings in exchange for free childcare, or even pouring all her faith into a void with nice brown eyes that saw everything but what was right in front of them. It was just… acceptance. Rough edges and all.
“Thank you,” Emily said. “For the lemonade. And for fixing Alice’s sculpture. For helpin’ out the other day. It meant a lot –“ to Jesse, the nasty little voice in her head said, and she spoke louder to drown it out. “-to me.” She stood and dusted off her Dockers.
Tulip lifted her glass in an ironic little cheers gesture. “That’s me, always helping.”
“If there’s anything I can do to help out,” Emily said, refusing to look at the house and imply anything about Walter, “Anything at all? Just call. You still have my number, right?”
“I got it,” Tulip mumbled. “I’ll call if I need anything.”
***
Emily wasn’t waiting by the phone for Tulip’s call. She wasn’t. If the phone happened to be off the cradle on the couch next to her while watching Netflix, that was just being prepared, right?
So when the phone rang at 3AM while she dozed to the sound of Big Brother, she was ready.