Secrets in the Attic (Secrets 1)

"Yes, and I called her a few times. I guess she thought it was better to keep it a secret for a while, and then all this happened--exploded, I should say."

I shook my head, disbelieving. I thought I was the one deceiving everyone, especially my parents, and all this time, Jesse was in touch with Karen? He was actually deceiving me.

"I'm sorry I never told you, but I thought that after I started college, I'd be so involved in the social life there, I would forget her. I didn't, and then all this," he said. "I'm sorry."

My anger toward him shifted more toward Karen. All those times we shared our secrets, our sexual and romantic fantasies, she never revealed any of this.

"It's not so unusual for a guy my age to like a girl your age, Zipporah. There's nearly seven years' difference between Dad and Mom, you know."

"I don't care. You can run off and elope with her for all I care," I snapped back at him, and continued toward the house, walking quickly now. He ran to catch up.

"I'm not going to run off with her, but you have to feel sorry for her, for what's happened, don't you? We can't just throw her out now."

I spun on him again, this time so sharply he stopped and actually leaned back as if he expected me to swing at him.

"You know what, Jesse? I used to think you were so smart, miles above me, but Karen is right about one thing. All you boys want the same thing and don't care how foolish you look or act, as long as you get it. I'm glad I saw you two. I'm glad you're not my big hero anymore. I'm glad I have both my feet on the ground, and at this moment, I feel sorrier for you than I do for her or myself or anyone."

"Zipporah . .

"Just shut up," I said. "I'm going up to the attic. I don't want you to follow. You wait in your room until I come down," I ordered. I had never used such an authoritative tone with him, but I was thrust into the role of the more mature, more responsible of the two of us.

He nodded and didn't follow me to the house until I reached the front door. He started after me, and I entered. I half expected Karen to be waiting downstairs, but she wasn't there. I climbed the stairway and walked up to the attic door. She was standing by the window that faced the front of the house. She was wearing one of my skirts and blouses. I waited. I knew she knew I was there, but she wasn't turning around so quickly. Finally, she did and smiled

"Sorry about that," she said. "Always knock before entering a room, my mother says." She walked toward me, still smiling. "In her case, it mattered even more. She slipped men into the house. so quietly and easily. I used to think she pulled t

hem in under the door. I'd be sitting there having breakfast the next morning, and some strange man would come into the kitchen, pour himself a cup of coffee, and smile at me. Half the time, they were in their briefs, and one guy even came in naked. I had to pretend it didn't bother me. I had to be cool, sophisticated. Sometimes my mother wouldn't even tell me their names or explain a thing. She would act as though it had been a dream of mine"

"Maybe it was," I said. "Maybe you're just giving me one lie after another."

"You're just mad right now. You shouldn't be." "You never told me he was writing to you and calling you. Why not?"

"Look at you. Look at how angry you are. That's why. I knew it would bother you. What's that joke I told you about the little boy who learned how he was made by his parents? Remember? He looked at them and said, 'My mother, never. My father, I believe."

She laughed and then turned serious, even angry- looking herself. "You put him on too high a pedestal, Zipporah. He's just like any other boy. Remember when I told you to read his journal? I was trying to get you to discover things, but you were too goody- goody about it. Not you, not Zipporah Stein read someone's secret journal, especially Mr. Perfect's journal."

"Shut up," I said.

"So you're going to blame me for everything? You're going to continue to keep him on some pedestal?"

I looked away and then glanced at our sofa. "Were you with him before this, too?"

"Once. I came to your house, and you were somewhere with your father. Your mother was at work, and Jesse was here. Look," she said, "if you were in my shoes, you would have done the same thing And don't try to be Miss Perfect yourself. You did go with Dana Martin that night, and it wasn't to talk about world events:'

"You wanted me to be with him just so I'd be like you. That's what you said. You meant all of it. This especially," I said.

She shrugged. "It's hard when your girlfriend is so pure, and you're not. It's better when you're both . . . complete," she said.

I sat on the sofa. "You should tell him the truth now," I told her. "You should tell him you were here already, and I was helping you. Why didn't you?"

"It was more important to me to protect you. Even now, even though I'm the one in the big mess, I was thinking first about you:' she said.

"It's not right. He should know it all."

"So we'll tell him, if you think that's best. He'll probably take it well and not blame you for anything He's not mean. He's actually a sweetheart," she said. She sat beside me and took my hand. "C'mon;, don't blame anyone for this. It happened. It happens. Someday, something like it will happen to you, too. It's not healthy to feel guilty and dirty afterward, Zipporah. There's no reason to, anyway. My mother certainly doesn't," she added.

I was silent. So many emotions and

contradictory thoughts were entwining within me. I felt as if I might just start spinning like a top and never stop.