Payback

by Jonnie Jacobs

  “I’d say it’s probably normal.”

  “Normal? You’d do something like that?”

  “No. At least I think not. But I’m not you. Mark isn’t Gordon.”

  “This isn’t about Gordon.”

  “It isn’t?”

  “It really isn’t. It was my weakness. Something totally separate from Gordon.”

  “That makes no sense.”

  “I love my husband. It’s not like I want to be with Todd instead.”

  Carol eyed the vase of roses. “I don’t think Todd sees it that way.”

  The scent of the flowers was making Marta sick. “Get them out of here,” she said. “I don’t want to see them.”

  “Shall I put them in the lobby?”

  “How about the trash?”

  “They’re gorgeous, Marta. I’m not going to simply toss them.”

  “You take them then. No wait, Mark will ask where they came from. Take them to the hospital or a nursing home. Just get them out of here.” Marta hugged herself in despair. “God, Carol. What am I going to do?”

  “Well, don’t thank him for the flowers, that’s for sure.” She stood up and reached for the vase. “If you ignore him, he’ll lose interest.”

  Marta nodded. “I hope so.”

  For a brief moment the thought saddened her.

  Chapter 7

  Out of the corner of her eye, Jamie could see Oliver Glick staring at her from his locker across the hallway. Okay, not staring really, but he kept sneaking looks in her direction, and he wasn’t at all subtle about it. Oliver wasn’t subtle about anything. With his pointy nose, thick glasses, and his stupid save-the-dinosaurs T-shirts, you’d think he’d lay low, but Oliver acted like he didn’t care what people thought. He sat behind her in English and waved his hand every time the teacher asked a question. That put Jamie right in Mr. Darby’s line of vision, so he sometimes called on her, even when she didn’t have her hand up.

  Oliver was making Jamie uncomfortable with his eye game. She decided to put on a mean face and stare right back. She made a production out of it—none of Oliver’s sidelong and furtive glances. She folded her arms and faced him squarely.

  Big mistake. He smiled at her.

  God, he was such a loser.

  She grabbed her algebra book and headed to class.

  “Hey,” Oliver said, falling into step beside her.

  Jamie picked up her pace and ignored him.

  “I wish I’d known you were going to be at Barnes and Noble Friday night,” he offered.

  She stopped in her tracks. “What?”

  “My mom saw you there, deep into a book. She said you were there for hours.”

  “Your mom? I don’t even know your mom.”

  “Sure you do. She works there. You’ve talked to her before.”

  “And she knows me?”

  “Yeah, of course. I mean you’re there a lot and we go to the same school and stuff.”

  “What’s she look like?” In the future, Jamie would avoid this woman at all costs. Or maybe she would stay clear of the bookstore altogether.

  “Tall with curly gray hair. She’s always got a pair of glasses hanging around her neck.”

  Jamie knew exactly who Oliver was talking about. She was like the store supervisor or something, and she was often in the stacks, talking to customers. “That’s your mom?”

  “Yeah.”

  Jamie hadn’t counted on there being spies in the store. She thought fast. “I was meeting this guy I’ve been seeing, but not until ten because he had to work. I figured I’d read while I was waiting.”

  It didn’t exactly make sense but Oliver didn’t seem to notice. Or get the part about meeting some guy.

  “I like hanging out in that store, too,” he said. “It’s better than the library even, although sometimes the library is better if you need to do a lot of research.”

  “Yeah, well . . .” Jamie managed her best dismissive huff. “I’ve got to get to class.” She hoped he’d keep his mouth shut about where she’d been Friday night, although it might not matter much because his circle of friends was even smaller than hers.

  She’d had a lot of friends when they’d lived in Boston. She got invited to birthday parties and sleepovers, and there had been a whole group of them in the neighborhood who hung out after school. If she’d stayed, she’d still have more than just her one friend, Alyssa.

  Jamie hated Georgia, and she hated her parents for dragging her here. Even if, as her parents told her over and over, it meant having a roof over her head and food on the table, which wouldn’t have been the case in Boston. So what if her dad lost his job? Her mom worked. And Tufts wasn’t the only school in the state. She didn’t understand why they’d had to move to Sterling, Georgia, of all places.

  “We can’t afford the mortgage on my salary,” her mom explained.

  “Teaching jobs are tight these days,” her dad added.

  They both agreed that “Life involves making hard choices.”

  Her parents made being an adult sound so complicated, when it really wasn’t. When you were an adult you were in charge of your own life. You could do whatever you wanted.

  Jamie couldn’t wait until she was eighteen.

  *****

  Because they didn’t have any morning classes together, Jamie didn’t get a chance to talk to Alyssa until lunch.

  “Greetings BFF,” Alyssa said, dropping into the empty chair at their usual table in the corner of the lunchroom.

  “Hi yourself.”

  “Halfway through Monday, and already I can’t wait for the week to be over.”

  “The weekend isn’t much better.”

  “No school, though.” Alyssa pulled a bag of chips from her backpack.

  Alyssa was a brainiac so it wasn’t the work part of school she minded, but the social side, the who’s friends with whom stuff that was what other kids cared about most. Jamie cared too, but Alyssa didn’t often hold it against her.

  Alyssa had what adults sometimes referred to as an “athletic build,” although she was the least athletic person Jamie knew. She wasn’t chubby in the way that Jamie was, but she was broad-shouldered and solidly muscular. She had straight, dark hair that Jamie envied like crazy.

  “Be glad you weren’t at Jake’s party Saturday night,” Alyssa groaned.

  “Just rub my nose in the fact that I wasn’t invited, why don’t you.”

  “Come on, don’t be like that. You know that’s not what I meant.”

  “You did stand me up at the last minute.”

  “I’m sorry, okay? Really. My mom made me go. I would have had a lot more fun with you.” Alyssa tore the chip bag wide open and set it between them. “Take as many as you want.”

  “You trying to buy my forgiveness?”

  “Absolutely. I’ve got a granola bar, too, if you’re going to drive a hard bargain.”

  Jamie took a fistful of chips and laughed.

  “I don’t know why I was even invited to the party. I think it was my mother’s doing. She and Jake’s mom are on the library committee together.”

  “She arranged a playdate for you?” Jamie asked, incredulous.

  “Pretty much.”

  “How embarrassing.”

  “Yeah. It was horrible, too. No one even talked to me. And there was alcohol, not that anyone offered me any. I felt like a skunk at the pet parade.”

  Jamie was secretly pleased, but she knew that was mean-spirited so she tried to ignore the feeling. Alyssa was her best friend, her only friend in fact. It wasn’t that she wanted Alyssa to be miserable, because she didn’t. She just wanted the both of them to be happy together.

  “I forgive you for dumping me,” Jamie told her, “but I’m not going to feel sorry for you. You did go to a party, after all.”

  “How was your weekend?”

  Jamie shrugged. Harmony’s dismissive treatment still stung. She’d been thrilled when Harmony suggested a movie, hoping the invitation might mean an e
ventual entree into the popular crowd. What had happened was too humiliating even to share with Alyssa.

  “My mom came home,” Jamie said dryly, “and we had cake for her birthday.”

  “Wow. Our lives really do suck.”

  Just then Harmony sauntered by, flanked by two of her friends. Jamie looked up and smiled. “Hi.”

  Harmony looked right through her and walked on without so much as a nod.

  She hadn’t expected Harmony to greet her like a close friend, but after what Jamie had done for her, she might at least have said hello.

  “Why’d you even bother talking to her?” Alyssa asked. “She’s such a stuck-up snob.”

  Jamie took a fistful of chips. “Yeah, she is. But I’m trying something new. Smother your enemies with kindness.”

  “Harmony wouldn’t recognize kindness if it bit her in the rear.”

  “Probably true.” Which made Jamie bristle even more.

  She tried to convince herself that Harmony didn’t matter, but she did. Not Harmony herself, because Alyssa was right about her. What mattered was what Harmony represented. She was cool and popular. Jamie was not. Even Alyssa had gotten invited to a party, no matter that her mother had arranged it.

  Oliver, Jamie thought sadly, wasn’t the only one who was a total loser.

  Chapter 8

  Marta pushed her grocery cart through the aisles of the supermarket on autopilot. Her hands reached for items out of habit while her mind grappled with bigger things.

  She’d meant what she told Carol. She did love Gordon and she had no desire to leave him.

  So why had she so readily jumped into bed with Todd? And why, despite the panic she’d felt at receiving the flowers, did she still savor the memory of that night?

  Her family meant everything to her. As did her marriage.

  Marta had discovered she was pregnant while she and Gordon were still dating, and she’d been terrified to tell him. But Gordon hadn’t run. He hadn’t even missed a beat. They’d get married, of course. It was only a matter of time in any case, he explained. Now it would happen sooner rather than later.

  And instead of feeling the burden of impending parenthood, which, to be honest, weighed heavily on Marta, Gordon embraced it. He painted the walk-in closet that was to become a nursery, researched car seats and cribs (although it didn’t much matter since they could only afford what was available secondhand), and added What to Expect When You’re Expecting to his evening reading.

  Through the sleepless nights with a colicky baby and the lean years of their early marriage, through a string of professional disappointments, their marriage remained strong, even when they weren’t exactly happy.

  But not anymore.

  In Marta’s mind, a sharp chasm separated past and present, although she couldn’t recall when the first cracks had appeared, or what caused them.

  The loss of Gordon’s job had certainly been a factor, but Marta’s own disappointment played a role as well. She had loved her job at the Boston Globe, and she resented being dragged off to a hick town in Georgia. Although she had dutifully attended parent events at Jamie’s school, she’d never connected with the other mothers, most of whom had known one another since their children were in kindergarten. She joined a quilting group, which looked askance at the art quilts she favored, and a book club whose taste in books favored inspirational tales, often with a religious message. This was so different from her own, admittedly eclectic, interest in literature that she found the gatherings painful.

  Then she’d met Carol and her life began to take shape again. Gordon, too, seemed to settle into his position at Howell. She had hoped their marriage was on the mend.

  But the roses from Todd upset her in ways she didn’t fully understand. They filled her with trepidation and dread, but also triggered a sharp quickness inside her, like the exhilarating drop of a roller coaster. And that scared her more than anything.

  *****

  “Smells good,” Gordon said, taking his seat at the table.

  Marta had made beef stew. It was an old family recipe she didn’t make often because it took a lot of work. At the store, she’d loaded up on the ingredients, determined to rekindle her faltering marriage.

  As was often the case, Jamie came to the table plugged into her iPod.

  “Not during dinner,” Marta reminded her. “You know the rule.”

  Jamie didn’t respond.

  Marta tapped her hand, motioned to the earbuds, and mouthed “off.” With a huff of disgust, Jamie reluctantly removed the earbuds and clicked off the iPod.

  “I don’t see what difference it makes,” she grumbled. “It’s not like we ever talk about anything interesting.”

  “What would you like to talk about?”

  When Jamie rolled her eyes and said nothing, Marta asked, “How was your day?” It was a stupid question, and one she instantly regretted, but she’d felt the need to break the silence.

  “It sucked. What else is new. Why do you even bother to ask?”

  “Maybe because we keep thinking it might be different.”

  “It won’t be,” Jamie said.

  Marta looked to Gordon, hoping he’d jump in. No earbuds for him, but he might as well have had them for all he contributed to the conversation. As usual, he was content to eat in silence unless he was asked a specific question.

  “Well, then,” Marta suggested, “tell us what was so bad about it.”

  Jamie put her fork down. “You don’t get it, do you? It’s not like it’s one specific thing, it’s . . . it’s everything.”

  Gordon jumped to life. “Don’t use that tone with your mother, young lady.”

  Marta cringed. This wasn’t the kind of involvement she’d been hoping for.

  She leaned forward, toward Jamie. “Honey, we’re trying to understand. We’d like to help.”

  “You can’t help, Mom. Nobody can.”

  Marta’s cell phone rang in the kitchen. She would have let it go to voice mail but Jamie, looking for reprieve from Marta’s questioning, raced to retrieve it from the counter. “It’s Aunt Cassie,” she said, handing the phone over.

  Marta sighed. Conversations with her sister took more energy than she had right then.

  “Hi, Cassie,” she said. “Can I call you back in a bit? We’re right in the middle of dinner.”

  “I guess.”

  “It’s not an emergency, is it?” With Cassie, Marta never knew what to expect. She could be calling from jail. Or some rich man’s yacht. Or simply to complain.

  “Nothing you’d consider an emergency.”

  “Good.” Marta tried to sound upbeat. “I’ll give you a call later this evening.”

  No sooner had she flipped the phone off than it rang again. She answered, no longer able to keep the irritation from her voice. “I told you I’d call you back and I will.”

  Silence.

  “Cassie?”

  Another stretch of silence, then, “It’s Todd. Did I get you at a bad time?”

  Marta’s heart thudded to a stop. She felt exposed, as if he were right there at the table with them.

  She needed to think fast. “Like I said,” she explained, carefully articulating each word, “I’ll call you later.”

  She hung up and turned off the phone. Her hand shook as she slipped it into her pocket.

  “Is Aunt Cassie in trouble again?” Jamie asked.

  “I don’t know. We didn’t get a chance to talk.”

  “Then why did she call you back?”

  Marta’s throat was dry. She felt as if her skin were flayed and her mind was on full display. “She didn’t mean to. She hit the wrong button on her phone.”

  “This is good stew,” Gordon said. Marta wasn’t sure if he was trying to help her out or simply commenting on the dinner, but she was grateful.

  “I know you like it.”

  “I thought it was too much trouble. You usually—”

  “I decided we deserved a treat.”

  “Oh
pu-leeze,” Jamie said. “See why I prefer to listen to music?” She shoveled the last of her dinner into her mouth and pushed away from the table. “I’ve got homework to do.”

  Marta watched her daughter’s retreating back and sighed. “Remember when dinner time used to be fun? When we all wanted to share our day with each other. Funny stories, complaints, questions. The point was we talked to each other.”

  Gordon shrugged. “She’s not a little girl anymore.”

  Pause. “I wasn’t referring just to Jamie.”

  Gordon put down his fork. “And we’re not newlyweds anymore.”

  “I know that.” Marta struggled to explain. “It’s just . . . sometimes it feels more like we’re roommates than family. Like you and I have drifted apart.”

  Gordon’s eyes narrowed. “I’m trying, Marta. You think I like being a failure?”

  “You’re not a failure. And I wasn’t blaming you.”

  “It sure sounded like you were.”

  “I was simply making an observation.”

  “I know it’s my fault we’re stuck here in Sterling. It’s not like I had a choice.”

  “Gordon, this isn’t about work. It’s about us. I feel like we’re stick figures sometimes. Or the Tin Man. We go through the motions of living but we’re not.” And the motions of loving, she added silently.

  “I’m not sure what your point is,” Gordon said after a moment.

  How do you explain a violet sunset to someone who was color blind?

  “Forget it.”

  They cleared the table in silence.

  “You want to watch a movie?” Marta asked as she put away the leftovers. “We got a new envelope from Netflix today.”

  “I don’t think so. You go ahead and watch it if you want, I’ll watch it another time.”

  “I didn’t mean right this minute. We can start it later.”

  He shook his head. “I’ve got work to do.”

  When the dishwasher was loaded and Marta was alone in the kitchen, she turned on her phone again.