Growing ever more anxious, I walked around the house, calling names.
“Mauru!”
“Jon!”
“Nate!”
“Nathalie!”
“Nathaniel!”
Had Mauru told me that he’d be taking the kids somewhere, and I’d forgotten? I picked up my phone from the counter in the kitchen and called Mauru. He didn’t pick up.
Odd.
I called again.
And again.
And again.
I texted him. Several times.
Maybe he’d told me that he was taking the kids to Mom’s and Dad’s place?
I called Dad’s cell.
“We’re on our way,” Dad said.
“Where, Dad?”
“To your place.”
“What’s going on?”
“I’ll explain when I get there.”
Two cars pulled up. The first had Mom, Dad, and Mauru. The second had Anna and Giulio, Mauru’s parents.
It was good to see them again. They lived up in Sacramento, and we all tried to visit as often as we could. Anna and Mom got along very well, and Giulio and Dad got along well, too. Mom and Dad even knew that Mauru’s parents were swingers, and they didn’t seem to mind. Elisa, Mauru’s sister, lived in Boston with her boyfriend, Beau.
Mom had a scowl on her face as she looked at me. I walked up to Anna and Giulio, and I hugged them. Usually, they would have embraced me, told me how good it was to see me again, and how much they’d looked forward to us all getting together.
“Hi, Janet,” Anna said.
“Hi,” Giulio said.
Mauru and Mom walked past me, and they went into the condo. Mauru’s eyes were red, and he was sniffling.
“What’s going on?” I asked Dad.
“Let’s go in and take a seat, Janet,” Dad said. “I blame myself for this.”
I tried to take a seat beside Mauru, and he stood up and went to sit beside Mom. Mom, Dad, and Mauru were seated on one couch. Anna and Giulio were sitting nearby on another.
“Janet,” Anna said, “Giulio and I love you. You’re like our daughter, and your Mom and Dad have asked me to lead our discussion today because I’m a trained therapist, and I love you. We all do. Please remember that—“
“Because I, I would never—“ Mom said as Dad held her hand and asked her to let Anna do it.
“We love you, Janet,” Anna insisted. “So this is not about blaming you—“
“It is!” Mom said. “It is! She needs to be blamed!”
Mike. They couldn’t possibly know. How could they know?
“I’m, I’m not sure what’s going on,” I said. “It feels like everyone is ganging up on me.”
“Show her the photos, please, Anna,” Mom said. “Enough with these games. She knows what she’s done.”
“Let Anna take care of this, Gazelle,” Dad said. “She’s a trained professional. She’s a psychologist with decades of experience.”
“Janet,” Anna said, “three days ago, we all received envelopes with photos of you and a man we believe is from the CWP.” Anna placed a large manila envelope on the coffee table.
My heart was pounding. My hands were trembling. I stood up and ran to the bathroom, where I puked. I puked again, and I stood in the bathroom, staring at myself in the mirror. My eyes were burning. So, this was how it all ended. What I’d feared most was unfolding, and I was an unwilling participant.
Anna knocked on the restroom door. I opened it, and she hugged me. I sobbed into her shoulder.
“You must face this,” she said. “You don’t want to run away from it. Giulio and I are here to support you and Mauru as you deal with this. You have to figure this out. Alright? For your sake, for his sake, and for the kids’ sake.”
I nodded, and I walked into the living room, where I took a seat.
“No amount of crying will undo your sins,” Mom said. “This is evil.”
“OK,” Anna said gently. “Would you like to take a look at the photos, Janet?”
“Of course, she doesn’t,” Mom said. “She’s in them. She knows what they’re about. And he’s married. And they are terrible human beings. Just sinful!”
I covered my eyes with my hands, and I sobbed. The sobbing over, I thought of going on the defensive. I was tempted to deny it all. I tell that I wasn’t in those photos, and whoever had sent them was a liar, and I would sue.
“Why, Jan?” Mauru asked. He was looking directly at me. “Why?”
“I’m just so angry at you,” Mom said. “You’ve broken my heart, Janet. My only child, my daughter, is an adulteress! And she’s sleeping with these, these—her own clients!”
“OK,” Anna said again, trying to calm things down. “Janet, your dad suggested that we all prepare something to say. I think it’s a good idea that we all say what we’re feeling—and that you do, too—to keep us all on track. Does that sound OK?”
Anna was shaking. She was also in a state of shock. She tried to look at me and smile, but she ended up looking at her son, whose pain I could feel. Giulio shook his head every so often, and he couldn’t look at me.
“Where are my kids?” I asked.
“At my house, with their Aunt Elisa and Beau,” Mom said. “You’ve endangered my grandkids.”
“Janet,” Dad said, “I blame myself for this. I’m sorry that I put you in this position—“
“Don’t encourage her,” Mom told Dad. “She’ll only sin even more if you give her a scapegoat. She’s already manipulative as it is. Just look at what she’s done to us!”
“We shouldn’t have moved to the US,” Dad said. “I was a boy, and I didn’t have a choice in it, but I see you trapped between two worlds, Janet. This, this man you’ve been seeing . . .” Dad paused and looked at Mauru as if to tell him that, no matter what Dad said next, he was on Mauru’s side in this. “This man in these, these photos is not a good man, Janet. We saw him in the papers and on TV. Remember Eleena. He was there. It’s like he’s part of the world we left, where people go missing, where they’re killed for their beliefs. Somehow, you’re attracted to that, Janet. And you also want the wonderful life you have here with Mauru. It’s all my fault. Now you’re torn between two worlds.”
“Dad,” Mom said, “the problem is that you’ve always made excuses for Janet. I told you something was wrong in January, and you said it was nothing. These photos were taken in January. This has nothing to do with being torn. It’s about sin, and she knows it.”
“I take responsibility,” Dad said.
Mom stood up and left the room. I heard her blow her nose in the restroom. She returned and took her seat.
“And to think that she did this to my son-in-law,” Mom said. Mom’s eyes were red, and tears streamed from her eyes. “I’m so ashamed, Mauru. Anna and Giulio, I’m so ashamed. This is not what we brought her up to be.”
Mauru’s eyes were red.
A thought came to mind. Mauru had received the photos three days ago, and he’d acted all the while like nothing was wrong. Sure, we hadn’t been intimate all week, but that often happened when we were both exhausted. The day before, we’d talked about our trip to Alaska, and I hadn’t noticed anything out of the ordinary. Why hadn’t he told me he’d received the photos? He’d betrayed my sense of trust.
“I just want to know why, Jan,” Mauru said.
“Right,” Anna said, trying to take hold of the conversation, “so we’ve heard from Derick and Gazelle, Janet’s parents, and now we’ll ask Mauru what he’s feeling.”
“She will burn in hell for this unless she repents and changes her ways,” Mom said. “Lusting after other people’s husbands is a sin. Adultery is a sin. I’m so ashamed, and I’m so sorry that my daughter is an adulteress. And with dangerous men!”
I wondered how my kids were doing. Had they been told?
“Do the kids know?” I asked.
“See,” Mom said, pointing at me. “I told you it’s true, Dad. She’s just admitted that
she’s the one in the pictures. My poor grandchildren! Mauru, I honestly don’t know what to say!”
“The kids are with Elisa and Beau at your parents’ home,” Anna said. “They’re too young to deal with all this, Janet. When you and Mauru have figured this out, and they’re of the appropriate age, you’ll know what to say.”
“Son, Anna, and Giulio,” Dad said, “I’m sorry that I put you all in this position. Gazelle and I talked of moving back to the Federation, just after Janet was born, but we wanted her to never question that she belonged in the US. We wanted her to feel that this was both her home and her country.”
“And now the US has another adulteress in its midst,” Mom said. “Shameful! What will they say at Living Heavens Church! If this gets out to the press, they’ll be treating us like Raddies.” Mom stared directly at me. “I will never forgive you for this, Janet. I will never forget what you have done to our family.”
“Mauru,” Anna said, “you had something to say.” Anna stood up and hugged her son. Giulio hugged him as well. “We love you,” Giulio said. “We’re here for you.”
“That’s all I want to know,” Mauru said as he sat down and looked at me. “Why, Jan? Was it something I did?”
“I, I don’t know,” I said.
“The date on the photos,” Mauru said. “It’s the night you came home wasted, and you told me that you’d spent the evening with Hannah after the party to celebrate the CWP victory.” He paused. “You lied.”
“I’m sorry.”
Mom was shaking her head. “This is worse than Helen,” she said. “Worse than Helen.”
“Why?” Mauru asked. “Please, just help me understand what I’ve done wrong.”
“Nothing.”
“And you must leave that job,” Mom said. “You cannot put my grandkids in harm’s way any longer.”
“She’s tried,” Dad said.
“Trying is not an excuse for not doing,” Mom said. “I want her out of there. She can flip burgers for all I care. And I want her to see a lawyer so that my grandkids and my son-in-law are protected. Do you hear me, Janet? You’re clearly unable to think straight, so I’ll do the thinking for you. Shameful!”
“Were you ever going to tell me?” Mauru asked.
“I don’t know,” I responded, sobbing again. I hoped someone would save me. Mike. I wished that he were there with me.
Giulio cleared his throat, and he looked in his son’s direction.
“Do you love him?” Mauru asked.
“Of course, she doesn’t!” Mom exclaimed. “She did this to break my heart. It’s just selfishness, that’s all! How am I supposed to look at Anna, Giulio, Mauru, and Elisa in the eye? Tell me, Janet. How do you expect me to face my son and his parents? Do you know how much it hurts me to be here right now? You’ve broken my heart.”
Besides the photos, there were, no doubt, videos of me entering the CWP hotel in Menlo Park, videos of me at the CWP headquarters, and maybe even videos of Mike and me together at the CWP headquarters. Any lie now would just make everything worse.
“I love you,” I told Mauru. “With all my heart, I love you. I love you more than I’ve loved anyone. Anna and Giulio are like second parents to me, and Elisa is my sister. I’ve struggled with this since January, and I’ve been so ashamed of myself, and I’ve felt so guilty. I’m so, so sorry. I’m sorry I’ve hurt you. Mom and Dad, I’m sorry I’ve let you down. Anna and Giulio, I’m sorry that I did this. I know I betrayed your trust in me, and I’m sorry. I just, I can’t lie anymore. A lie kills as much as the act it’s meant to hide.”
I reached for the manila envelope. I opened it. The photos were sexually explicit. All seven of them. They had the date and time. Mike and I were clearly visible. There was no doubt about who was in those photos and what we were doing.
My hands trembling, I placed the photos back on the table.
“I’m in those photos. I don’t know what I was thinking, but it was foolish, stupid, and selfish. I knew it was wrong as soon as it was over. And I thought that I’d never want to see him again. But I have.” Mom gasped and shook her head. “When I said that I was in Menlo Park for work, I went to see him. Seeing him made me realize that I, I want him in my life. I want you both in my life, you, and him. But I know that’s impossible.”
“I told you,” Mom said. “This is a defiant, stubborn child. I’m glad my parents didn’t live to see this day.”
Mauru looked marooned as if the ship in which he’d long voyaged had abandoned him on some shore, and he had nothing but his clothes and a few memories to show for the journey he’d had so far.
“So, you love him, Jan?”
“I don’t know.”
Mom stood up and left the room. Dad followed her. Anna and Giulio hugged me as they left. Only Mauru and I remained.
“I can’t, Jan,” Mauru said. “I can’t go on like this. I was in denial when I got those photos. I didn’t even know what to do. I called Elisa, and she’d also received them. Mom and Dad had received them, too. Mom called your mom, and your parents had received them. I thought it was a joke. I thought there’d be some rational explanation.” Mauru fell silent. “I don’t know you anymore. I know that now. Eleven years together, and I don’t recognize you. And I’m supposed to be your husband, your best friend.”
“It only happened once.”
“And you lied about it. I haven’t hidden any part of me from you, Jan. There are no secrets in my life. Over these eleven years, even when you’ve changed in ways I didn’t understand, I stuck by you because I loved you, and we were a unit. You’ve always come first for me.”
“I just wish that there were some way that we could all figure this out—“
“Figure what out? Figure out that you’re falling—or that you’ve fallen—for these clowns in uniforms? Figure out that you were willing to lie for as long as it took? Figure out that I don’t recognize you right now? What’s there to figure out?”
“Us.”
Mauru shook his head. “I’m moving in with your parents until I figure out if there is an ‘us’ anymore. You realize that I can’t be around you right now, right? I also hope you realize that the kids should be with me, at least for now. You can see them at any time. Mom’s promised that she won’t interfere with that.”
“We should both talk with them today, together, and tell them that you’ve decided to move in with Mom and Dad for a while, and I’ve decided to stay here. I don’t want Jon having more nightmares.”
Mauru nodded. “We should also tell them that the trip to Alaska is off.”
“They’ll be crushed.”
“I can’t be around you, Jan. I just can’t, and I don’t even want to think of a future with you, right now.”
18
Not a Promise But a Plea
As a child, my sense of time was different. I imagined life as divided into three categories: babies, my age, and grown-ups.
Anyone younger than I was a baby, anyone my age was an equal or a competitor, and everyone else was in some phase of being a grown-up.
Being a grown-up was no fun because it meant you always worried. You wailed at events called funerals, where your relatives arrived, asleep and cold, in shiny wooden boxes, and you blew your nose repeatedly into tissues and said, “My mom, your grandma, is dead, Janet. She was my rock and my soul, Janet.” Or “My dad’s gone. Dad’s an orphan now.”
I cried with the grown-ups because I was sad to see them unhappy, but I didn’t understand what they meant when they said that Grandma Anne wasn’t coming back because she was with Jesus now, or Uncle Patrick had gone directly to hell, which was a great blessing for the whole family.
Being a grown-up meant you talked of something called “retirement,” and you couldn’t wait for it to come because you were tired of your boss, who was an idiot, and you secretly hoped your boss would choke on the drumsticks and fries he had for lunch each day.
In your retirement, you’d have a garden, and you’d plant
strelitzia, marigolds, and sunflowers. You’d wear colors that clashed, like pink and green, purple and yellow, and you wouldn’t give a fig what people said because you’d finally have earned your right to wear flats all day and not shave your legs, too.
Retirement would be something wonderful. Wasn’t it a pity that they only made it possible for you to retire once they’d drained all the life from you?
I became a grown-up, and I realized that not everyone made it to retirement, that life expectancy was not a promise but a plea, and that everything that once seemed so inevitable became emphatically less so as Fortune’s wheel spun out of your favor.
Mid-April to mid-November 2039 only reinforced that insight.
Jon refused to talk to me whenever I visited my parents’ home because, he said, he’d heard Mom say that I’d broken Mauru’s heart. Jon also said that it was my fault that we were no longer going to Alaska, and he couldn’t forgive me for that.
Nate was acting out at day care, and he’d pushed another child to the ground in a fit of rage, and he’d kicked him. When Mauru and I tried to talk to Nate, he said that the boy had told him that he was stupid, and parents didn’t like stupid kids.
My twins seemed like the only ones who were happy to see me, and although I tried to stay for at least three hours after work (till the kids were asleep), I almost always ended up staying for about ninety minutes because Mom couldn’t stand having me in the house, which she made clear with scowls, sighs, huffs.
I was also dealing with the news of Hudson’s illness.
I was tempted to share the news with Mauru, but I didn’t want to spread panic (as a mother of three boys), so I didn’t say a thing.
Mauru had also pulled away from me, and he was talking of taking the kids to Sacramento and Boston for the summer. His parents and his sister hadn’t spoken to me since the intervention, and I told myself to give things time.
One evening, I put Nate, Nathaniel, and Nathalie to bed; Jon refused to be around me.
Fire Sweeping: The California Ballot Killings Book II Page 21
