by Kaira Rouda
“Mom,” Dane said, and Melanie’s heart soared and then dropped to her chest. Something must be wrong, she thought.
“What’s wrong, honey?” she asked, hurrying toward him, flapping her work book like a crazy person. She was supposed to be less smothering, more mothering she heard Dr. Winslett say in her ear. Why did she always get this stuff wrong with Dane?
“Mom, chill, nothing, I’m just home from prison. Thought I’d see what you were doing tonight. Ashley and her mom wanted us to come over for dinner. Dad too, if you want?”
Melanie’s heart melted. She stared into her son’s brown eyes and smiled. “Of course, that would be lovely. As long as you know we can’t be out late, early flight tomorrow.”
“I’m not going to forget, Mom,” Dane said, rolling his eyes, but she knew he was excited for his performance at a huge holiday music festival in New York. They were flying there together in the morning, all expenses paid. It was crazy. Melanie was dreading his departure for college in the fall. It was so ironic it made her laugh at herself, at all of her misplaced worries, her negative thoughts. “Worry never helped anything,” Dr. Winslett reminded her during every session. She was right.
And of all the things Melanie had worried about this year—her son’s future, whether a college would want him, her own future, what she would do with her time once she wasn’t a full-time mother, whether or not she and Keith still loved each other—she had never worried about a drug bust at school. Not once. The one thing she should have feared, because Dane had known that kid Doug, the undercover cop. But she hadn’t known to worry. And even if she had, her worry wouldn’t have changed a thing.
“Dad too, or just us?” Dane asked, looking anxious to head to his room and play his guitar.
“Whatever you’d like,” Melanie said.
“Just you and me would be good. I don’t think Coach will be there, so just leave a meal out for Dad,” Dane said. “You know, that housewife thingy you do so well.”
“I do do that well, don’t I?” Melanie said, realizing she did in fact do many things well.
“Yes, Mom, you do,” Dane said, giving her a quick hug. “I’ll drive. We’ll leave here about five.”
“Sounds perfect,” she said, smiling as her tall, dark, and handsome musically gifted son retreated upstairs to his cave. She relished the fact that her youngest son wanted to be around her again, had invited her out to dinner, and would, before she knew it, depart for the college of his dreams without drama. They were friends again.
Midlife was getting better every day, Melanie thought, heading into the kitchen to make dinner for Keith. She and Keith had been reconnecting. She’d started slowly with small touches, holding hands again, and making sure to give him a kiss before he headed out to work. And these small touches, remarkably, led to a renewed connection between the two of them that Melanie had never imagined. She was actually excited for the time, after this summer, when she and Keith would be empty nesters. They could focus on each other and have some fun, travel the world, do all of those things happy older couples were doing on TV.
LAUREN
It was harder than Lauren had imagined, doing the right thing.
She’d kind of lost herself in herself, been selfish and sneaky and awful. That much she knew. And she’d tried to repent. That’s what she told herself, at least. Sometimes she admitted she was only doing the right thing because Will was locked up, and she needed to distance herself from him and the mess he’d created.
“I mean, who tries to kill somebody with a pillow?” she said to the dashboard of her car, a refrain she’d grown accustomed to blurting out whenever she was alone and thinking about Will. Even though he was stupid, and probably an attempted murderer, her body still craved his touch. He was her drug, illegal but so tempting, so handsome with his blue eyes, his perfect body, his—“Stop it,” she said, again to the dashboard. Anyone looking over at her in traffic would hopefully think she was speaking on the telephone over Bluetooth, not talking to herself. Hopefully.
Kiley already thought she was an idiot, but at least she was talking to her again. They’d bonded that horrible day, when Lauren—ignoring the warnings of the cops blocking her path—darted into the high school quad screaming her daughter’s name. She wasn’t sure what had happened exactly, only that she would get to her daughter and get her out of there. And that’s what she did. Kiley came running to her once the lockdown had been lifted, crying and scared, a child once again. And they were close, closer at least now. As long as Lauren did precisely what Kiley instructed. Something like this:
Kiley: “Mom, I need new clothes. Credit card.”
Lauren: “Sure, honey, whatever you’d like.”
Or, Kiley: “My friend Marni, the one who’s dad you fucked. Well she doesn’t have money to go to college. Can you write a check? Or, I could ask Daddy?”
Lauren: “Sure, honey, don’t bother Daddy with this.”
So far, Lauren was certain Kiley hadn’t bothered her dad with any of this. But it was the elephant in the room between them, the implied threat in every conversation they had. Every once in awhile, when Kiley didn’t need anything from her, Lauren would mention something about doing what was right, naming the elephant. But, of course, that was the problem, the thing they could not figure a way around.
Because if Lauren went all the way with doing the right thing—testifying in court, illuminating Will’s motive for wanting to suffocate his wife—everyone would know Kiley’s mom was a monster. The stigma would affect Kiley, too, and Lauren was sure to insinuate that reality to her daughter.
So Lauren was waffling, and in her waffling, she was hiding crucial evidence the prosecution could use against Will. He had called her, begged her not to talk to anyone, to deny everything. And with Kiley getting everything she wanted and the check to the Parker girl coming from the dealership—Lauren had told David a sob story about the girl who’s dad was in prison and he cut the $200,000 check—nobody really had any evidence that Lauren knew anything.
It was almost as if she were innocent, as if nothing had happened between her and Will at all. Lauren looked down at her left ring finger, at the massive princess-cut diamond adorning it. She pushed up the sleeve of her burgundy silk blouse and pulled the seat belt away from her chest. It always squeezed too hard. The light turned green and she maneuvered to the school pickup zone. As Lauren pulled up to the curb, Kiley opened the car door and hopped in.
“Thanks for picking me up,” Kiley said. Her daughter’s newest tattoo was a small heart, just behind her left earlobe. She had said it signified the love she felt for everybody at school, especially everybody who had been busted. Lauren knew better than to say anything about it. She’d long ago stopped trying to control her daughter’s body real estate, even though some of Kiley’s piercings made Lauren feel physically ill. At least she hadn’t dyed her hair black since before the college fair. She looked happier, from an outside perspective at least.
“How was the meeting?” Lauren asked. She was so proud Kiley had volunteered to help plan graduation. She didn’t have any extracurricular activities since Lauren had allowed her to quit track, and so this sudden school spirit was completely unexpected.
“Good. All of Dad’s older kids had a role in their graduations. Did you know that? And Dad sponsored the grad party every year. Until me,” Kiley said, spinning a ring around her left middle finger. The ring had a skull on it. Lauren knew what was coming before her daughter asked.
“How much, Kiley?” Lauren asked, wanting to blurt something inappropriate at the windshield, at her daughter, at anyone who would take it.
“Only ten thousand,” Kiley said. She’d opened the visor mirror in front of her and was examining her eye makeup, which to Lauren was raccoon-like already. Lauren watched with a neutral face, she hoped, as Kiley pulled out her black eyeliner pencil and added more.
“I’ll ask your dad, or you could?” Lauren said, pulling away from the school pickup zone.
&
nbsp; “You do it,” Kiley said. “I’m going out tonight, to study with a few kids after dinner, so don’t worry or wait up. You and Dad can have some alone time. Pull him away from the TV, sit by the fire, and talk or something. It’s gonna be just the two of you when I leave.”
Surprisingly, a tear worked its way to the corner of Lauren’s eye and she wiped it quickly. Kiley would be gone and she would be alone with David. She wouldn’t be able to face it, she thought, heart racing. No, that just could not be her future. She was forty years old and her life felt like it was ending.
“No, actually, Kiley, I’m not happy with your dad. You know that. So I’ll be divorcing him. I know you don’t want that,” Lauren said. She kept her voice calm. They were almost home and she wanted everything to be calm. In control.
“I’ve been thinking about that, and you should stay with him. He needs you. He’s old,” Kiley said.
Lauren stopped the car at the beginning of their long, winding driveway. If she followed it straight back, pushed the pedal all the way to the floorboard, they’d plunge into the turbulent dark sea in under thirty seconds. She looked up and took in the mansion in front of her and then narrowed her eyes at the young woman next to her. “I will not have you dictate my life. I love you more than anything, but I am not a nurse. I am leaving your dad. I’m halfway out the door. Once you go to college, I’m gone. Understood?”
Kiley was silent, so Lauren put the car into drive and pulled into the already open garage. David was standing at the door of the garage, waiting for them. Kiley looked at her mom, and Lauren shrugged.
“Hi, what’s up, Dad?” Kiley asked as both of them climbed out of the car.
“Well, there’s a nice police officer here to see your mom. Some unpaid ticket or something, I’m sure,” David said, looking at Lauren with a strange dull stare.
“Hey, Daddy, can I talk to you about something while mom talks to the cop?” Kiley asked, wrapping her arms around his ample waist.
“Of course, Princess,” David said, pulling his daughter to him and heading into the house, letting the door close behind them.
Lauren stood inside the garage alone. What would a cop want with her? she wondered, knowing it had to lead to Will. She had no choice, so she pushed the door open and walked down the long hall, full of the trappings of luxury. A laundry room with three washing machines and dryers, the pool shower, the sauna, and finally, turning the corner to the main portion of the house, the summer kitchen where she found Officer Abelli waiting for her, a steaming cup of coffee in front of him, another across the table from him. Presumably where her husband had been seated moments before.
Lauren felt her face flush.
“Hello, Mrs. Potts. It’s so nice to finally know who you really are this time around. Anonymous tipsters are so helpful sometimes. Anyway, I’m Officer Abelli. We met before, at the, ah, park,” he said, dark beady eyes flashing.
She remembered, just then, he’d seen her shoulder and part of her breast. His looking at her, at the spot where her bra strap should have been, was seared in the back of her mind. She touched her shoulder before dropping her hand to her side.
Lauren sat down in front of the empty coffee cup, across from the standing cop, and clasped her hands to keep herself from shaking. She crossed her legs and then crossed them again at the ankle. He sank back into his chair but leaned forward, elbows on her table, short-sleeved uniform exposing his black-hair covered arms, his watchless wrist. He wore no wedding band on his left ring finger, a detail Lauren hadn’t noticed during the shock of their first encounter.
“So, Mrs. Potts. Seems you’ve gotten yourself into a couple of compromising positions lately,” he said. He reached into a backpack and pulled out a pad of paper. Lauren thought so little of the Crystal Beach Police Force, and the raid at the high school had confirmed her worst suspicions. They were bullies and thugs. They were known for breaking up teenage parties, chasing underage drinkers through the backyards and streets of town. And now, here he was, coming to her home to remind her of an embarrassing incident that should be kept quiet. Lauren was furious.
“How rude are you? How dare you come into my home and talk to my husband?” she said. Now she leaned forward, too, their faces inches apart.
“Your husband and I are old friends, actually. He’s a big supporter of the police force and our scholarship fund. So was his original wife. But not you, no, you wouldn’t know that, would you?” Officer Abelli said. He leaned back and folded his hairy arms across his broad chest.
This was the exact moment Lauren realized she needed to get her head in the game.
“How fabulous for you. Are you here for a donation? I’ll be happy to grab my checkbook. Otherwise, it’s late and I need to start dinner,” Lauren said, placing her hands on the table, about to stand, to be free of this leech.
“No, it’s not money I want. It’s your testimony. Against Mr. Parker,” Officer Abelli said. Lauren saw him lick his thin lip and wanted to punch him in the face.
“You’ve got to be kidding.”
“Not at all. Your husband doesn’t know why I’m here, not yet. He doesn’t know, for example, that the last time we met, you and I, you told me your name was Carol Parker, and that you were, um, with Will Parker. No, he doesn’t know about that. Not from me. But he had some suspicions he was asking me about while we were waiting for you to get home. Of course, I couldn’t confirm or deny anything. It’s not my place.”
“Of course,” Lauren said, trying to control her anger, staring at the forest of dark hair on his forearms. “But with some money, for say, long-sleeved shirts or a beach house, then you’d go away, right?”
“Like I said, Mrs. Potts, all I want is your cooperation. Otherwise, all of this, all of what you have that’s actually your husband’s from what I hear, will be gone. Poof. I’ll charge you as an accomplice. You have motive,” Officer Abelli said. He snapped his finger for emphasis and Lauren jumped.
She supposed she’d do the right thing. It would help the officer and Will’s family, and, well, she may even be able to hang on to a part of her life. She would have to come clean to David, confess to her affair. But he would believe it was just a couple of encounters, a fling, a mistake. He’d take her back because he loved her and because, well, he was old. What else was he going to do? She would keep her promise to David; they could have a recommitment ceremony and write their own vows, get remarried in a lavish ceremony in Maui. They could try to be happy. At least until Kiley graduated college. Lauren would still be young.
Her punishment was nothing, really, compared to a prison sentence. Nothing compared to starting all over again with a man who wanted a baby, or a man who was a baby himself. She could do this. At least she knew what she had. Kiley would be by her side, watching as always, making sure she held up her end of the bargain. Lauren’s biggest hope was that someday in the future, maybe she’d understand.
Actually, the night had unfolded just as Kiley had predicted in the car on the drive home from school, Lauren thought, a chill running down her spine. Kiley had said she’d decided her dad needed her mom. Had her own daughter been the tipster?
As Lauren escorted Officer Abelli to the door, the ground shifted and she reached for the wall to steady herself as the realization crashed in on her like a tidal wave: This was all Kiley. Her daughter had planned everything. As Lauren closed the door behind Officer Abelli, she slumped to the floor.
“Hey, Mom, now that your chat is over, when’s dinner?” Kiley said, her disembodied voice ricocheting off the kitchen walls, coming from the small speaker of the state-of-the-art intercom system. “Dad and I are famished. It’s been a really long day.”
And that’s when she knew she was trapped, caught, and that she would confess to everything, whatever they all wanted her to say. Because they had all decided Will was guilty and an attempted murderer and an adulterer. All the men in town were jealous of him, she knew, because he was too handsome and too virile. Meanwhile, Lauren’s own hus
band must have decided he’d keep her around for awhile because it was easier than finding someone else. And her daughter, well, she had known about the affair almost from the start and had pretended to love her mother anyway while she had set her trap.
“I’ll get right on it. I’m thinking spaghetti, Kiley, your favorite,” Lauren said into the air, knowing that the intercom system had picked up every word just like it had when she’d been talking to the cop. Her husband and daughter had heard it all. Lauren looked down the long hall and forced herself to start moving back into the kitchen. She needed to get the water boiling.
SARAH
Sarah thought it was strange having a male suitor after a quarter of a century with the same man.
She wasn’t sure she was ready for it, truth be told. Sure Tom was adorable and so helpful around the house. Despite the fact they hadn’t done anything more than kiss each other on the cheek, she wasn’t ready. He was always around, tinkering with a loose faucet washer or weeding her front walkway even though she had a full-time gardener and an on-call handyman. She’d caught him in her closet a couple of days ago and had drawn the line in the sand. She’d found her voice and it was loud, she remembered with a smile. She suspected he wouldn’t try to organize her clothes again anytime soon.
She was used to being on her own, running the house for her and Ashley. She had people she called for things. She liked her closet messy and her bathroom counter pristine, with only her lucky bamboo in a vase adorning the shiny whiteness of the countertop. And she needed, no insisted, on squeegeeing the glass shower doors after every shower. Tom had showered in the guest bathroom twice, and he’d never wiped the glass.
