by Cassia Leo
“Did you get the bottle of bourbon I sent?” were the first words out of her mouth.
Something about her deep, Demi Moore voice irked me. It was a disconcerting juxtaposition, like a loud, sparkly dress, torn around the edges. It probably explained how she’d gotten hired by Kent last year, while I was busy following other leads.
I supposed there wasn’t really anything wrong with Miranda’s voice. Or her large breasts she liked to display with low-cut blouses. Or her black hair that flowed down, almost long enough to touch her plump, Kardashian ass.
I just didn’t like her.
I glanced at the $300 bottle of bourbon on my desk. “Yeah, I got it. That was a nice gesture. Thanks.”
Her laugh sounded like the laugh of a sixty-year-old woman who’d smoked for forty years.
“Well, I figured you’d probably want something to celebrate with when I tell you that we finally hashed out the business and financial plan and submitted Form 1023 to the IRS last week. We have officially applied for 501(c)3 status. The hard part is over.”
“Wow. That’s great news,” I replied, making a mental note to share this with Laurel.
“It’s not great. It’s spectacular! The application is the hardest process and we’ve cleared it. Plus, since we used the lawyer your brother recommended, we’re practically guaranteed tax-exempt status.”
“Right. It’s really good news. I’ll have to call John and thank him.”
The uneasy pause that followed was broken with a gasp. “Oh, my God! I totally forgot. I got the invitation to the company Halloween costume party. Is this in addition to the Christmas party or in lieu of?”
“We probably won’t be doing a Christmas party anymore. Less than half the staff celebrates. We figured a Halloween costume party made more sense.”
“Will you be going?” she asked eagerly. “I know it’s like eight weeks off, but I want time to plan.”
My stomach gurgled with unease. “Of course I’m going. The Halloween party was my idea. I’d be setting a bad example if I didn’t attend.”
She chuckled. “Are you dressing up?”
“In a costume? I don’t know. I guess that depends if my wife wants to dress up. That’s assuming she can come. She got a new job, and her hours are…” Why the fuck was I talking about Laurel to this bitch? “I should get going. Keep me up to date on that 1023.”
“Will do, Jack,” she replied, putting a bit too much emphasis on my name.
I hit the speakerphone button to end the call just as Jade walked in with my bottle of Deschutes beer. I thanked her, then I called Laurel from my cell.
“Hey, what’s up?” she said, sounding somewhat out of breath.
“Just thinking about you. What are you doing?”
“I’m just making the bed.”
I shook my head as I stood up. “Maybe you should just come home and make my bed.”
She snorted. “Very tempting offer, but I know you never leave the bed unmade.”
I wet my lips as I suddenly felt thirsty. “We can mess it up so you can make it again. We can play the sex robot game. I’ll let you program me to do whatever you want.”
She laughed, but it didn’t sound like real laughter. She was probably keenly aware that I was trying to use sex to get her to come home.
“We’ve had one counseling session that ended in me fucking you in your truck,” she replied. “We’re supposed to be finding new ways to communicate, but we haven’t even tried any of the communication exercises Bonnie assigned on Friday.”
“That’s not true,” I corrected her. “I told you that same day how much I appreciated you.”
“Pfft! I think your words were, ‘Thank God for this pussy,’ as I lowered myself onto your dick.”
I laughed, though I probably shouldn’t have. “All right, all right. Let the gratitude exercise begin… Thank you for loving me.” I tried not to, but I couldn’t help but laugh. “Sorry, it’s just so fucking ridiculous.”
“Here’s my gratitude. Thank you, Jack, for not taking this seriously.”
“Come on, pixie, you know it’s bullshit. We don’t need someone to tell us how to appreciate each other.”
“No, Jack, it’s not bullshit. It’s marital counseling, and it’s helped millions of couples save their failing marriages. But apparently, ours is not worth saving.”
“Our marriage is not failing. We lost a child!”
“I know that! You don’t have to keep reminding me,” she said, and I could already hear her beginning to cry.
Laurel only wanted to talk about the good times, when Junior was alive. She never wanted to talk about that night. In my opinion, this was her way of pretending that what we saw when we stepped inside that bathroom two years ago wasn’t real. She wanted to pretend that Junior and Beth weren’t brutally murdered. Like they just floated up to heaven on a cloud of fairy dust.
I didn’t want to hide from the truth. I never wanted to forget what I saw in that bathroom. I didn’t want to forget that kind of evil existed.
It was my job to protect my family, and I had failed. So now it was my job to protect Laurel, and anyone else who might fall victim to my son’s murderer.
I knew Laurel wasn’t strong enough to fight this kind of evil, which was why I had to be strong enough for both of us. I had to keep the investigation fresh in the mind of the detectives who were working the case. I had to help them in any way I could.
I wished I could get Laurel to understand my point of view on this, rather than constantly dismissing it as an unhealthy obsession.
I paused to take a breath as I made a split-second decision I would probably regret. “Fine. You don’t want to talk about this right now. That’s cool. I just called to tell you that I won’t be able to attend the next session on Friday. I have to go to Tokyo and I don’t know if the trip’s going to take a few days or a few weeks.”
She let out a congested laugh. “Great. Already backing out?”
I shook my head at her predictable response. She was the one who complained — in that god-awful letter she wrote me — about how Kent and the other partners thought I was neglecting my work. Here I was, taking work seriously again, and she automatically assumed the worst.
“That’s not what this is,” I replied. “I have a job to do and I need to prepare for the possibility that I won’t be here for this week’s session. Would you rather I be honest with you or just not show up?”
“I don’t care what you do, Jack.” Then she hung up.
I shook my head as I slid the phone into the pocket of my slacks. I probably should have at least apologized for not being able to make it to the counseling session, but she hadn’t exactly given me an opportunity to do that. I’d let her cool off and she’d come to her senses and call me back later.
Or… I could call in reinforcements. Someone who could mediate this separation with diplomacy, maybe even a little humor. Not a professional mediator. It had to be someone who knew Laurel and me better than a random counselor or lawyer.
I knew just who to call.
Chapter 15
Laurel
I sat down on the unmade bed and drew in long, quivering breaths to calm myself after the call with Jack. But I couldn’t stop the tears from falling.
I had felt on top of the world, exhausted but excited to get started on the garden today after another grueling day at work. Now I wanted to curl up under the covers and hide myself away.
If I slept, I wouldn’t have to remember. Sleep was the best anesthetic.
Of course, with sleep there was always the chance that my dreams would turn on me. I hated the dreams where I relived that night. But the dreams I hated the most were the ones where Junior wasn’t dead, just lost. Somewhere just beyond my reach.
I used to have lunch about once a month with one of Jack’s colleagues’ wife, Holly. At our last lunch, Holly said to me, “I don’t get why you’re torturing yourself over this. He was only three months old. Just have another baby.”
She had spoken the words I worried everyone was secretly thinking. They were words only a person who never lost a baby could think. It was a luxury to be able to think that way. It meant you didn’t know the gnawing ache of losing something so perfect. Someone so untouched by the sorrows of the world; a living, breathing vessel for all your hope.
It didn’t matter if Junior was three months or thirty years old. I would always feel as if my hope died that night.
Maybe I deserved it. Imagine the hubris of believing your life was perfect. Maybe I never deserved all that beauty and joy.
I decided to take a long, hot shower to help myself relax. Then, I finished making the bed and lay back to wait for the burst of energy I needed to get started in the garden.
It was twenty minutes to three p.m. when my phone vibrated. I stared at the name on the screen for a moment in confusion. It was the first time Jack’s sister Jessica had called me in months.
My gorgeous sister-in-law was three years younger than Jack and me, and enjoyed her very busy and very single, child-free life. She’d visited us for two days when Jack Jr. was a couple of weeks old. As she doted on her nephew, she was very adamant that she would probably never have one of her own. She couldn’t handle the commitment, which I always found funny since Jack was the exact opposite of her, and his father and mother had been married almost forty years.
“Hello?” I answered tentatively.
“Laurel! Hey, how are you doing, babe?”
Why is it that when we feel like complete shit, and we’re barely holding on by the thinnest of threads, the moment someone asks how we’re doing, that’s when we fall apart?
I sniffed loudly. “Not well,” I replied. “Jack and I are separated.”
I wouldn’t normally share something this personal with Jessica, but I assumed this was the reason she was calling. No use trying to hide it, especially when I couldn’t stop crying.
I allowed myself to sob. Not just a regular sob. I really let loose with a sniveling, hiccuping snot-cry.
“Oh, honey. You sound awful. I wish I could give you a big hug. Maybe even hump your leg a little. You sound like you could use that.”
I chuckled through my tears. “Thank you. I thought you were calling to get mad at me for leaving.”
“Well…” She took a long pause. “You know me. I don’t understand how anyone can promise to be with the same person for the rest of their life, but people do it, and I may change my mind about that someday. Stranger things have happened.”
I made my way to the desk to grab some tissues. “Marriage is hard work. It’s not for everyone.”
“Exactly!” she replied. “That’s what I told Jack when I was talking to him a few minutes ago.”
“You said that to Jack? What did he say? Did he think you were talking about me?”
“Oh, hey, no need to go nuclear,” she replied defensively.
Jack and I hated when she said that. No need to go nuclear was Jessica’s way of saying “calm down” without actually saying the words. Telling someone to calm down in the middle of an argument was like throwing gasoline on a fire, common knowledge that Jessica apparently never learned.
“Just answer the question, Jess. Were you talking about me? Did you tell Jack that marriage isn’t for me?”
“Those weren’t my exact words. But I basically just meant that marriage isn’t for me… and some other people, but I didn’t mean you. I know you love Jack, though I have no idea why you would leave him, but I’m sure you have your reasons. Which is why I called, to ask you why? Like, is it something I can help with? Do I need to go there and referee a wrestling match or something? What do I have to do to get you two back together? Because I don’t think I can handle Jack being single.”
I sighed as I recalled the time Jack’s best friend Nate accidentally let it slip that Jack was a self-destructive man-whore before he met me. I knew when I met Jack that he was the broody and devastatingly gorgeous genius in my mobile and cloud software development class. I had heard rumors that he was working on a social networking app that would change the way people texted each other, and that every girl in our class wanted him for herself. But this new comment from Jessica implied that she expected Jack to possibly fall into his old ways if we broke up.
“I understand where you’re coming from, Jess. I really do,” I began. “Jack and I not being together, in some weird way, probably disturbs your worldview and makes you question your life choices. But take a moment and please try to see this from our point of view.” I took a deep breath to muster the courage for the words I needed to say. “Jack and I both found my mother and our baby boy dead. I won’t even go into the gory details of the images that are forever burned into my memory, but please know that nothing you imagine can possibly be worse than what it felt like to live it, what it feels like to see it every time I close my eyes.”
“Laurel, please don’t think I was implying that I have even the faintest idea what you’ve been through. You’re right that I can’t possibly imagine that level of pain and horror. But you said it yourself that it was you and Jack who faced that. Don’t you think you should face the aftermath together?”
“We have. And we’ve both tried very hard, in our own ways, to make this work. But we’ve reached a point where we’re dealing with a total breakdown of communication. We only communicate in the bedroom these days.”
“I really did not need that visual.”
“Jessica, I’m serious. We need help, and Jack is refusing to acknowledge that. I had to force him to try counseling, and he’s acting like he’s too cool for the exercises the counselor recommends.”
“Wait a minute, this is what I was calling about,” she said as if a lightbulb had turned on inside her head. “Jack just told me that they’re expanding into the Japanese market, and he initially sent Kent to try to broker the deal, but he really feels he needs to go. It’s a huge deal, he told me. Possibly in the billions. It’s not that he doesn’t want to go to the counseling thing, he’s just trying to do what you told him to do, to find some balance.”
The way she said “the counseling thing” annoyed me, like it was a silly board game I wanted Jack to play with me. But I had to admit that she was right. I did mention Kent in the goodbye letter I’d written to Jack. Trying to focus more on work was one of the things I’d been wanting him to do.
I let out a long sigh. “Thank you for calling, Jess. You should call more often. I’ve… I’ve missed hearing about your crazy Tinder adventures.”
She laughed. “Yeah, right. I believe you once called being single a nightmare.”
“Well, judging by the week I’ve had, I stand by that.”
“Hey, babe, I know you’ve got shit to work out. I can’t even imagine what you’re going through, but you can always call me. And you can always go home, too. You know, just sayin’.”
I chuckled. “Bye, Jess.”
“Bye, sis.”
I hung up feeling better than I’d felt in weeks. Despite our differences, and our argument, talking to Jess felt like… Well, a little like talking to my mom. I would have to try to call her more often.
And I would call Jack later and apologize for hanging up on him. If he had work to do on the other side of the planet, I had to respect that and cancel the next appointment. For now, I had to trust that he would keep his word and continue the sessions after his trip to Japan.
For now, I had to get off my ass and start working on the garden, or I would probably spend the rest of the day moping. But the moment I stepped outside, onto the back porch, I was stopped in my tracks by the sight of the gardening supplies I’d delivered to Isaac yesterday. Was he returning the surplus to me instead of taking them to the store? Or was this some sort of gift?
I had to go ask him myself.
My heart thumped ferociously as I walked up the brick pathway to Isaac’s house. I didn’t know why I suddenly felt so nervous. My stomach was a tight ball of apprehension as I climbed the porc
h steps, noting how the door was still an unfinished slab of wood.
I wondered what Isaac did for a living. What kind of job would allow a man enough time and money to spend all day working on his house. Maybe he was some kind of day trader or investor, like Nate.
I knocked on the door before I noticed the doorbell, but I decided to wait to see if he heard the knock before I pressed the button. I didn’t want to sound overly eager.
After a few minutes, I decided it would be okay to ring the bell. But after a few more minutes, it became clear to me that he wasn’t home. Then, I heard the distinct squeal of a circular saw turning on and slicing through wood.
The sound seemed to be coming from behind the house. I walked along the front porch and turned the corner where it wrapped around the left side of the house. A set of steps led down to the driveway, which I followed toward the backyard.
Though he had his back to me, I could see Isaac was wearing headphones and safety goggles as he measured a sheet of plywood. The backyard around him was sectioned off into various plots with box gardens and the mesh fencing we delivered yesterday. It appeared he had a few vegetable gardens and some fruit trees in the back corner. The other corner was occupied by the one-car garage he was expanding into a two-car.
The shrill scream of the circular saw refocused my attention on Isaac. As I approached, I had a sudden crazy fear that I was going to catch him by surprise and he was going to cut off one of his fingers. Especially with those headphones on, he wouldn’t be able to hear me basically sneaking up on him.
As I began to leave, I heard a gruff shout.
“Hey!” Isaac called out.
I turned toward him and he was grinning as if someone had just told him he’d won the lottery.
I waved at him as I approached. “Hey!”
“Did you just drop by to admire my backside?” he replied, as if that was something that happened to him all the time.
