“What if he’d killed you? Or—or something worse?” Her eyes bulged.
“Christina, I think all of these questions can wait for now.”
She ignored Tyler and spoke directly to Brandon. “Well, it’ll be better when you’re back at home in your own bed.”
Tyler tensed. He didn’t want Brandon in the middle of a fight, but he definitely wanted him staying put. “I think it best, if Brandon stays where he is at the moment. Let him adjust to one house before he flies off to another one.”
A muscle in Christina’s jaw clenched as she glared at Tyler. She rose. Tyler stood to meet her advance. She moved her face close to his, spitting her sharply whispered, vitriolic words in his face. “Haven’t you done enough? You’re the cause of all of this. He needs to be with his mother.”
“He needs to be here. Leave him be,” Tyler said.
Katherine stood nearby, watching with a ghost-like silence. Since Brandon had come home, she’d stared at him as though she didn’t know who he was—not once coming near him.
Christina whirled back to her son. Her eyes flashed with anger as her voice trilled with false exuberance. “Brandon, honey? Would you rather come home or stay here with your father?”
Brandon looked up at her, the expression in his eyes making him look too old. “I’m fine here.”
Tyler’s heart soared with relief. In the morning, he would call the church, schedule a counseling session. Get Brandon on the path to recovery—and maybe himself as well.
Christina turned toward Tyler again, her hands on her hips, jaw set, head nodding with bitter derision.
Tyler bit his tongue, resisting the temptation of telling her to get back on her broomstick and fly away. She was in pain, too.
Christina’s face hardened as she turned to Katherine. “Are you coming, Katherine? Or are you staying here, too?”
Katherine shrugged. “I guess I’ll stay.”
Tyler almost felt sorry for his ex-wife. “I’ll call you tomorrow.” He quickly moved toward the front door and held it open for her.
Her head nodding as though to say, I should have expected as much, and her mouth pressed into a thin line, Christina exited the house, climbed back into her car, and peeled out of the cul-de-sac, nearly colliding with the local news van as it rounded the corner.
~*~
Monday, December 19
Tyler returned to work, grateful for some normalcy. If they lost this contract, maybe he could apply for another position within the company. Sitting at his desk, he unpacked his things—his notepad, his lunch, a clean coffee cup.
“Hey.” The voice was like an unexpected touch that startled him. He glanced up at Tara, standing at the edge of the cubicle as she usually did, kicking the toe of her red, high-heeled pump into the edge of the dividing wall. She looked perfect as always—her shoulder-length, strawberry-blonde hair flipped up at the ends, her bangs resting in a perfectly straight curtain, barely touching the top of the bridge of her nose.
“Hi, Tara,” he said a little brusquely, more irritated with himself that he felt a tingle and surge of adrenaline at her appearance than he was at her openly flirty mannerisms.
Her manicured fingernails, the same red as her dress and shoes, tapped the side of the cubicle, and she cocked her head to the side as she smiled at him. “Missed you last week. I’ve been thinking a lot about you. You know…wondering how your son is doing. I heard you found him in Winchester?”
What was it about twenty-somethings these days that they seemed to have no filter? They didn’t know how to ask a sensitive question. They just blurted it out as if they were inquiring whether a lost fact sheet had been found or if a deliverable had reached the government point-of-contact in the correct format.
“That’s right,” he said.
“Is he OK?” Her tone melted into a whispery puddle of sympathy and concern. “How long was he missing?”
“About a week.”
“Do you know—I mean, did he run away or was he kidnapped or…”
There were far too many intricacies, and Tyler didn’t expect a twenty-five-year-old who’d never had a bad day in her life to understand. He was being a bit harsh, but looking into her gorgeous green eyes right then simply reminded him of his weakness. It wouldn’t take much to push him over the edge, and he was trying really hard. “We think he ran away, but it’s just…there are a lot of outside details to work through.”
“Sounds complicated,” she observed, her eyes resting on his with a devastating amount of responsiveness.
Why couldn’t his wife look at him like that? “It is.”
Slowly, Tara ceased her pole dance with the anchor of the wall and stood with both high-heeled feet on the ground. “You’ll let me know if there’s anything I can do, right?”
Tyler forced a smile. “Right. Sure. Thanks.”
“Well, there’s been a lot going on here.” Her eyes widened as she emphasized the lot.
“I’m sure there has.”
Tara looked over her right shoulder, and tilting her chin upward, she shot off in that direction, as though she’d seen someone with whom she needed to speak. Her form was almost immediately replaced by John Cabrisi’s.
“When you get settled, stop by my office for a sec, would you?”
“Sure.”
John made a thumbs-up sign before heading off in the same direction as Tara.
Weeks had passed since he’d heard anything regarding the contract renewal. This was probably the moment when John would issue him a pink slip and the last date of his employment. Hopefully, there would be a respectable severance package of some sort. Tyler had been with the company for quite a few years—plus, he had employee stockholder options. That should count for something. As he walked toward John’s office, he passed Raj’s cubicle.
“Anyone ever tell you that you look like Buddy Holly?”
“Yes, but I don’t have his money, and I don’t want to die like him.”
Tyler offered Raj a fist bump.
Raj returned it.
“How are you my friend? How is your son?”
“He’s doing OK. He’s at home. Lana’s keeping an eye on him. And I’m doing OK, I think. I’m actually glad to be back at work. Keeps my mind off of things.”
“I get that. I’ve been praying for you and your family.”
“Thanks. Hey, John wants to see me in his office. You think the axe is going to fall today?”
Raj took a deep breath, his eyes searching the rafters overhead as he considered the possibility. “I really don’t know. I haven’t heard anything about anything. No word of whether CEF got the funding or didn’t. It’s been silent.”
“Well, who knows? Maybe no news is good news.”
“Let’s hope. I know you’re off to greener pastures, but I really need to keep my job. Especially with the newest chicken coming along in a few months. Dave’s wife is having another baby too.”
“Wow,” Tyler observed. “Lots of new births on the horizon.”
“You’re next!”
“Ha,” Tyler laughed at the irony. “I think Lana would rather go work in the coal mines than have another kid. She’s already fast-forwarding thirteen years to when Micah and Celia are out of the house, and she’s on a beach in Santa Monica reading her book under an umbrella with a pina colada.”
Tyler tried to picture himself as a man of leisure—supine on those beaches, drinking something smooth and reading a political thriller novel. But every time he tried to envision it, the image was foggy, as if he had something under his contact and the view wouldn’t come into focus. He couldn’t smell the ocean air, the suntan oil, or the coconut.
“Hey, Tyler! It’s good to see you. Glad you’re back. Come on in. Shut the door behind you if you would.”
Tyler couldn’t help but dread the lowering of the axe.
“So,” John began, smacking his hands on the top of the desk, “how’s Brandon doing? Saw you on the news the other night.”
�
�Yeah. He’s doing OK. He’s home. That’s what matters.”
“I’m sorry you’re going through all this.” A moment of silence passed.
Tyler waited with his hands underneath his twitching legs for the fateful words.
“I really am sorry…and I’m glad he’s home,” John assured. “But in a complete and total switch of subjects, I have some good news for you. At least, I hope you’ll think it’s good news.”
Maybe the contract had been extended?
“You know Roger Pearson?”
“I know of him, yes.” Pearson was a substantial step above Tyler’s rung and had been with the company for over twenty-years.
“He’s retiring.”
“Oh.”
“And Colonel Snowden nominated you to replace him.”
“What?” Tyler exclaimed. “Was our task not renewed?”
“Yes, it was renewed. But, obviously, this is a much better opportunity for you. There’s a lot more money involved. It would be a promotion.”
A tire iron striking him on the head couldn’t have surprised him more. “Yes, I know it is. It’s just…wow.”
John’s bushy eyebrows elevated at Tyler’s reaction. “I know you’ve got a lot coming at you right now.”
“Yeah.” Tyler’s head was spinning. Did he accept it outright? He could always change his mind.
“This is a major opportunity, obviously. You’re not thinking of turning it down or anything, are you?” John asked with a short laugh.
Tyler rubbed his hand over his mouth. “Well, it’s just that Lana and I were toying with the idea of moving to California, but with everything going on…”
“What? When?”
“Well, it depends on a lot of things.”
“Did you get a job out there?”
“No, not—no. Lana has a job offer out there.”
“Oh.” John’s tone changed suddenly, and Tyler detected a note of disappointment. “Well, you have to do what you have to do.”
“It depends on what happens with Brandon, of course. I can’t really go right now.”
This must have sounded convoluted and personal to John, who probably wanted to stick to business and not get involved in the sticky, crusty elements of domestic issues and problematic children. Tyler didn’t dare tell him that his son might also be facing felony charges for pornography distribution.
“Just so you know, I don’t think they want to wait too long.” A note of warning tinged John’s voice. “But maybe you can talk this over with Lana and see what she says. We’re also talking a significant raise. I don’t know what’s in California, but she might find that life can be just as good, if not better, on this coast.”
~*~
Tyler‘s temples pounded and his stomach rolled with acid indigestion at dinner that night. Pressure constricted his head and chest as Lana talked about what this or that realtor said and how they should update the kitchen before listing it. Now that Brandon was home, Lana just assumed the move to California was back on.
“The one realtor I talked with thinks folks might not want the stainless steel anymore. They’re looking at built-ins and butcher-block countertops and clean lines, instead of the flashy coldness of granite and steel.”
Tyler stared at her. “We spent a lot of money for those granite countertops and stainless steel appliances. That’s what you wanted—had to have—couldn’t live without.”
“Trends change.”
“Well, I’m not spending another cent on this house for the latest design trend,” he said, gulping his water. He could feel the anger rising, constricting his ribcage with painful resentment. “Since you came back from California, all you talk about is how unhappy you are with every aspect of our life. You don’t like our house, you don’t like my job, and you don’t like being a stay-at-home wife. Do you even like our kids? ’Cause I’m beginning to wonder.”
“Where is all of this coming from? Why are you attacking me?”
“Because I just don’t know how to make you happy anymore. You have this void inside of you, Lana, and trying to fill it is like trying to fill up an empty well with an eyedropper. I just don’t know if I can give you what you want.”
Her gaze fell as she refolded her napkin. “Everything will be fine once we get to California—”
“Will it?”
“Of course it will.”
“Because I don’t think it will. I think there’ll just be something else you need or want once we get there.” He shoveled a morsel of meatloaf into his mouth and chewed so hard he bit his tongue, which only fueled his anger. “You idolize everything you don’t have.”
“What?” she spat, her eyes squinting into livid slits. “You really think that?”
“Yes I do.”
Lana plonked her elbow onto the table, dropping her forehead into her raised right hand.
“I think you worship status and money and prestige.”
“Well, who doesn’t?”
“I’d like to think I don’t.” He could feel the heat from her glare all the way across the table.
“You know what, Tyler? I think you should take a good, hard look at yourself. You’re not that perfect either. I’ve seen the history on your computer. I know about the sites you surf at night once I’ve gone to bed. I’ve seen the pictures of the naked girls you gawk at…just like your son does.”
Tyler stopped chewing.
“What? Are you going to deny that you look at porn?”
Tyler had hoped Lana hadn’t figured it out. But now, there was little reason to deny it. “No. I’ve looked at porn.”
“So, obviously, I’m not enough for you. Just like Christina wasn’t enough for you…or maybe she was too much for you, I don’t know.” Her words were biting, her tone purposed to wound him.
“I know I’m not perfect,” he said, deflated.
She snorted. Sitting back in her chair, she crossed her arms.
Tyler put down his fork and moved to sit in the chair closest to her, where he tried, unsuccessfully, to make eye contact. “Look, honey. I think maybe we need to slow down here. There’s a lot going on right now. For one, we’ve got this whole debacle with Brandon, and until that’s resolved, I’m just not myself. I’m worn out from thinking about it every minute of every day. And then we have Micah and Celia to think about. I don’t know how you’d feel about this, but I really think we should consider getting some counseling. Maybe from Pastor Simmons or someone else on staff at the church.”
“Ha!” Her mouth turned into a tight, furious frown. “You’d love that, wouldn’t you? You’d love telling them what a beast I am and what a saint you are.”
“I’ve just admitted to you that I need some help as well.”
“What you’re saying is that you don’t want to move to California.”
“Well, there’s something else I haven’t told you,” he tried to speak with a bright, upbeat tone. “I just found out this week, but I’m being offered a promotion to Program Manager. It would mean a salary increase and more responsibility, and…we could live more like you want. This could mean a lot for our future. Whereas, if we pack up and move, who knows what kind of job I could get out there.”
She slammed her hands on the table as tears welled in her eyes. “Why have we been talking and planning for the past few weeks? Why did you even get my hopes up? Why did you tell me to go out to California and chase my dream and see what happens?” Her words trailed off as she burst into loud, frantic sobs, flailing her arms as he pulled her into a forced embrace.
“Lana, honey. Calm down. Shh. Listen to me.”
But she was inconsolable. Her cries were loud keens of sorrow and loss that clawed at his heart. He’d crushed her dream, and there was no use talking anymore. Tonight, he would pray things between them could somehow heal. Even so, fear struck at his heart, radiating the message through his entire body that things between them would never be the same again.
18
Kaki
Tuesday,
December 20
Kaki stared out the window. She was in her Algebra 2 class, and her skin was crawling. Mrs. Moss was up at the Smartboard, pointing out how to calculate some complicated problem. She was so far behind in the class that she no longer knew what they were doing. And her skin was crawling. She was out of the little blue pills. This must be withdrawal. Chewing at her nails, she checked her phone again. No text messages from Damien. He’d been quiet since the weekend. Since after Brandon came home. She’d received one text from him on Sunday evening.
Remember to keep ur mouth shut.
But she hadn’t been able to remember why she was supposed to keep her mouth shut. What was she not supposed to tell? A wave of nausea swept over her, and a sheen of sweat broke out over her skin. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d gone this long without the little blue pill. She needed Damien to get her some more, but that meant she’d have to work for it.
She focused her eyes on the woods next to the school. In the midst of the trees, color and movement caught her attention. Three kids were filing into the woods. This wasn’t unusual when the weather was decent. Kids often sneaked into the woods. It was a spot they used for cutting class, smoking dope, and making out. But it was unusual to see kids hanging out there during the dead of winter. Especially when it was only twenty degrees outside.
A few moments later, the three kids streaked out of the woods and toward the school—two boys and a girl—all pushing each other to move faster and ducking their heads to avoid tree limbs. A few minutes after that, another group of four went into the woods. What was going on?
The scene sparked a flash of memory in her brain. She had been in those woods recently. She couldn’t remember the details, but she had been there. An image of walking over frozen ground, tripping and falling over branches…in the pitch dark…with someone…with…Damien. Helping to carry something—something heavy. Getting sick…
She bolted out of her seat suddenly, shoving the plastic chair backward into the desk behind hers as vomit rose in her throat. Clutching her cell phone and clamping her hand over her mouth, she slammed her way out of the classroom, barely making it to one of the over-sized trashcans in the hall before spewing yellow bile and the granola bar she’d eaten for breakfast.
Suburban Dangers Page 17
