Dinah had rehearsed her speech and swore to herself she would not deviate or blurt impulsively. If she did this wrong, everything could get much, much worse.
Morgan had her cello in place, her eyes closed and her earbuds in. The fingers of her left hand were flying over the strings, but her right arm held an invisible bow. She sometimes did this silent practice, if she felt her instrument would be too noisy for the household. Such a considerate girl; everyone had always said so, since kindergarten when she’d share her crayons, even while they were still pointy and fresh.
Dinah moved into her field of vision. Morgan’s eyes stayed closed. She swayed with the music, and Dinah could tell from the sound leaking out that this was her Elgar concerto she was supposed to have played at solo and ensemble, accompanied by Mrs. DeWitt, who was replaced by a college accompanist who turned out to be fictional. An alibi of sorts.
In all that had been lost these last months—all her college applications accepted, for instance, which should have been cause for throwing confetti but now passed with only bittersweet acknowledgment and uncertainty—this competition had been shuffled to the bottom of the list. She could see Morgan mourning now for what she missed that day. It rent Dinah’s motherly heart, but she also thought, Good, maybe now she’s starting to see what this cost her.
Dinah finally touched her daughter’s shoulder. Morgan gasped, and her eyes snapped open.
“What?” she yelled, and yanked out her earbuds. “It’s so humiliating not having a door. You know, I never did anything wrong in here.”
Dinah bit down her next thought, about how she was sending him text messages from this room, planning their assignations.
“Morgan, I have an idea. It’s risky, though. Dangerous. And you can’t tell anyone.”
Morgan’s eyes widened, and she dropped her indignation. She set her cello carefully down on its side in front of her desk. Dinah settled on the edge of her bed, and Morgan remained on her chair, though she scooted it close.
“I did something reckless. I talked to his wife.”
“What? And how? How did you even . . .”
Morgan’s breathing shallowed. Dinah placed a steadying hand on her daughter’s knee, and for once, she didn’t stiffen or flinch.
“I went to her work. But listen: This could get us in a lot of trouble, so you can’t tell a soul. But . . . I think you deserve some answers, don’t you? And he’s not going to tell us the truth right now, maybe not ever. But I think his wife will.”
“Why would she talk to me anyway?”
“Maybe she wants some answers, too.”
“I’m sure she read the police report.”
“That’s not the same.”
“What if she, like, tries to beat me up or something? I mean . . .”
“She won’t. She seems like a kind soul, actually.”
Morgan shook her head and sat back. “No. Forget it. Something’s fishy here. She wants to trick me, to talk me out of testifying.”
“You already said you wouldn’t.”
“But she doesn’t know that.”
“It’s crazy, I know. Forget it. Never mind. I just wanted you to know the truth.”
“Why would she tell me the truth anyway?”
“Why wouldn’t she?”
“To keep him.”
“Would you want to keep him, if he’d cheated on you with a teenage girl?”
At this, Morgan huffed and turned away, arms folded like a barricade across her chest.
Dinah slumped. It was a stupid idea. She’d risked the case against TJ and getting arrested herself, and it was all for nothing. She began to stand. “I’ll talk to your father about the door. He was upset that day.”
“Mom?”
“Yeah?” Dinah turned back at the doorway.
“Did you really do that? Go find her and talk to her?”
“Yeah.”
“Wow.”
“Yeah, well. Lot of good it did.”
Morgan shook her head slightly and picked up her cello again.
Dinah was washing dishes when Morgan appeared at her side, rubbing her scar.
“Yeah, okay” was all she said.
Dinah dropped a glass back into the water. Warm soapy bubbles splashed onto her abdomen, soaking her shirt. “You sure?”
“Yeah.”
“Very secret. Top secret. Not a soul else.”
Morgan regarded her with the cool weariness of someone much older. “I can keep a secret just fine. But will she?”
“Yes, I believe she will. She could get in trouble, too.”
Morgan looked down at the floor. “Mutually assured destruction. Learned about that in world history.”
“It’s worked so far. The earth is still here.”
Morgan picked up a dishcloth and started drying, without being asked. Dinah wanted to cry. For the simple normality in this action, for all the normality that was lost, for this time that should have been special and precious. They’d gotten their preordered graduation announcements in the mail just yesterday. It was another milestone they should have been relishing but instead struck fear into Dinah at the thought of her daughter graduating in front of everyone, having been publicly shamed. Even as the legally acknowledged victim, there was no doubt that there was shame clouding the air around her like mist. She knew there would be a cadre of parents and faculty who’d rather she just stay home and keep the scandal from marring such an event. God help her, if it had been some other girl, she’d probably have said the same.
Part of Dinah—a bitter shame of her own—wished they would stay home and hide.
Morgan said, her voice sounding small and brittle, “Why did he tell on me?”
“Who? Ethan? Maybe he didn’t.”
“Mom . . .”
“Okay, fine. Let’s say he did. He told because he cares. He really does love you.”
“Whatever, Mom, he’s gay.”
Dinah shook her head in a double take, then shrugged. “Well, so what? He still loves you.”
“Mom? Hello? He loves dudes.”
“Not all love is romantic. Ethan is a boy who cares very deeply. It must be really hard for him to be gay and not be able to care openly like that.”
Morgan grumbled something, and Dinah had to ask her to repeat it. She finally said, louder, “I wasn’t supposed to tell you. I didn’t mean to.”
“I won’t say anything.”
“Not even to him, to say, like, it’s fine or something. Okay?”
“I won’t, I won’t. I promise. He’ll come out when he’s ready.”
Moments passed when the only sounds were quiet splashing. Then, from Morgan: “It wasn’t supposed to be like this. It’s not fair.”
“I know, baby. I know. I said the same thing when the boys were born so early.” Dinah shook the water off her hands and put her arm around her daughter. “But things get better.”
“Yeah. Things are so great that Jared drew a marijuana leaf in Sharpie on the inside of his locker.”
“What?”
“Oh. Thought you’d heard.”
“Not that one, no. How did you hear?”
“I checked on him in the freshman hall.”
“You did?”
“You always want me to check on them. I never stopped. Mom, I’m supertired. I need to go lie down.” And with that, she was gone, trotting back up the stairs.
Joe came in just as Morgan was going up. Joe made to talk to her, his arms opening for a hug, but Morgan tossed a curt “Hi” and retreated up the stairs. The pained longing in Joe’s face made Dinah want to cry all over again. Instead she wrung out her dishcloth. She was so tired of crying, and it never accomplished a damn useful thing.
“Did they win?”
Joe snapped his attention back to her. “Yeah. Might go to State. Our pitcher did a damn near perfect game. It was something.”
“How were . . . How were people to you?”
“Fewer pitying looks than normal. I think they’re ki
nda getting over it until, well. Later.”
Joe went on, “Ya know, I think Morgan was right about going back to school.”
“You should tell her that.”
“Yeah, maybe.”
“No, you should. We haven’t given her enough credit.”
Joe scoffed and leaned on the counter, looking at his shoes. “We gave her too much damn credit, doncha think?”
“I mean now. She’s courageous to go back into that school.”
“You’re doing it again. Unbelievable.”
“Doing what?”
“Putting everything our kids do in the best possible light, making them look perfect. With Morgan you were right most of the time, but you did it with the boys, too, and look where it got them.”
“Where exactly did it get them? Okay, Connor got in a couple fights and Jared got suspended once, but . . .”
“There should be no ‘but’! It’s always with the ‘but’ with you! But they had unreasonable teachers, but Jared’s legs hurt, but Connor has a temper. You know, I deal with parents like you all damn day at school, who come in there and never want to admit there’s ever a problem with their angels; it’s all someone else’s fault.”
“I can’t believe you’re blaming me for this.”
“I’m blaming the teacher! That Hill, I’d crush his throat if he were in front of me now. After I put his balls in a vise. But you are so quick to look on the bright side and you have to admit that for once, there is no goddamn bright side. Our daughter slept with her teacher, is planning to run away, and we will all be humiliated again in June when the trial starts.”
“Maybe we can ask Henry to reschedule for . . .”
“The trial date is not the point!”
“So what is the point? Tearing me apart because I don’t feel bad enough already?”
Joe slumped and crossed his arms. “We all feel bad, Dinah.”
“But you seem to think I should feel the worst of all. I’m doing my best; that’s all I’ve ever done.”
“Me, too.”
“So why are we at each other’s throats? Why aren’t we in this together?”
Joe kept staring at his shoes. Dinah thought his refusal to look at her might be the very worst part. “We are. But what do you want? Want me to lie and act like I think everything we ever did was perfect? What good would that do?”
“Can’t we at least get through this before you pick me apart? All across Arbor Valley people are tearing me apart, and I can’t believe I get it at home, too.”
“Believe me, I’m no saint. I’m not saying it’s all on you.”
“But it’s me who ‘coddled’ the kids.”
“Well, yeah, Dinah, it was you. But I wasn’t here, as you’re always pointing out, so it’s not like I’m some big hero.”
“So if you’d been here to supervise me, it all would have turned out perfect.” Dinah tossed down the dishcloth. “I’m going out for a walk. I need a break.”
“Oh, come on . . .” Joe said, the words drawn out with irritation. He stayed where he was, not making a move toward her.
Dinah went right out the door without her phone or purse. If anything fell apart in her absence, Joe would have to deal with it all himself and see how easy it was to be the parent performing triage all the time.
In the driveway, as Dinah shuffled into the spring dusk, already muggy with impending summer, she thought if she’d detected one glimmer of genuine affection from Joe, she wouldn’t have walked out. She’d have thrown herself into his strong chest and sobbed, like she’d done before they got old and tired.
She glanced back at the house, the windows aglow with warm light. The sight of her home looking so normal arrested her right there at the edge of their yard, and she stared at the scene, as the equal and opposite impulses to run home and run away rooted her in a kind of stasis.
42
Morgan kept sipping her bottled water, for something to do, trying to keep her hands from shaking, as her mother drove her west into the rural area surrounding Arbor Valley. Her mom was chattering to fill the silence—one of her most annoying habits—but today, Morgan didn’t mind. She was telling her about how it used to be all forest here, hence the name when they bulldozed the forest to make way for the town.
Morgan’s stomach turned when they passed a country club and golf course. He had mentioned it once, that night at his brother’s house, talking about his hobbies. He’d said they’d spent a whole day out there, his brother bragging the whole time in subtle ways about his big house and fancy vacations, and how they went without a golf cart, so his knees throbbed, but he wouldn’t give his brother the satisfaction of quitting before eighteen holes.
After another half hour, the car began slowing near a park entrance, and Morgan’s blood rush sped up as the car slowed, then rumbled over a gravel drive, and approached a wood gazebo looking out over a still wetland.
Morgan had stayed home “sick” from school for this excursion, and Dinah had arranged for help at the Den to “stay home” with her.
So the park was deserted this midday in May. Except for a lone figure at a picnic table near the gazebo.
She did not look up right away as Morgan and Dinah got out of the car and approached; she seemed absorbed in the novel open in front of her. The first thing Morgan thought was that she looked so young.
Then she looked up, drew herself up straighter, and folded her book closed without marking the page.
Morgan and her mother drew to a stop a couple of yards away. Morgan looked at Dinah and watched her eyes dart back and forth. No one dared speak. The birds were loud in the human quiet.
She finally said, “I heard you have some things you want to know.”
Morgan could only nod.
“Sit down, then.”
Morgan felt her mom nudge her forward, and so finally she walked across the long grass—still damp from being in the shade of the trees—making her flats wet and tickling the tops of her feet.
She settled on the opposite bench of the table from her, slightly to one side. Dinah did the same, and together they made a triangle. Isosceles triangle, Morgan thought, thinking of math class, and him, and she had to grip the side of the table to keep herself from running back into the car.
It was too late now. They’d already crossed a line. In fact, just by agreeing to meet, they’d left that line far behind.
The wife spoke first. “My name is Rain. TJ is my husband. I’ve been thinking about what I’d say, and my first instinct was to apologize. But I’m not responsible for his behavior. So then I was thinking, this might be a terrible idea, and she might jump up and run away, or they might do something to me . . . By the way, I have pepper spray in my purse.” At this she narrowed her eyes and set her jaw. “And I’m serious. I doubt you’re totally insane, but I can’t take that kind of chance. But since I’m doing this insane thing, what is it that I hope to gain? That’s what my gran used to ask me when I was trying to decide what to do. To think about what I wanted to accomplish.” She glanced down for a moment, then back up with a glare, straight at Morgan. “So this is the thing I have to know. How did it start? How did you go from a kid in his class to his . . . lover.”
Her voice squeaked on that word, and Rain closed her eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath in through her nose and letting it out in a quick poof of an exhale.
Morgan wanted to die, right then, hoping she would just be struck dead by the hand of God at the picnic table.
She was so pretty, and young. Morgan had seen her picture more than once, but somehow in her mind she’d distorted the image to be someone old, cold, and dried up. Here was a woman not that much older than her, now in pain over . . . what happened.
This was not how the story went.
“Um. I mean. I guess the same way it always happens.”
“Oh? This always happens?”
Dinah interjected sharply, “That’s not what she meant.”
“Mom, stop. I just mean, we just
kind of were friends at first. We talked about stuff. I’d broken up with someone who was in the class. One time he took a call . . . well, from you, I guess. And seemed very sad.”
“When?”
“Um. September. Maybe early October.”
Rain nodded, her eyes down on the picnic table, as if she were watching this scene play out there.
“And . . . well, I’m sure you read about all this. I told the cops and they wrote it down. I’m sure someone showed it to you.”
“Yes, I’ve heard the facts. This happened, then this happened, then this. I know where, and when, and approximately how often. But how did it . . . evolve? How does such a thing happen?”
“I don’t know,” Morgan whispered. “I don’t know.”
“That’s such a line to cross. How does one even approach that line, much less cross it?”
Rain’s gaze was up over Morgan’s shoulder, somewhere in the trees behind her, and she seemed not to be directly asking Morgan anymore. Her expression was dreamy. Disconnected. As if she would start to float up from the picnic table and drift away over the pond.
Then she snapped her gaze back to Morgan.
“Did you ever do it in my bed?”
Dinah reached out to hold her daughter’s hand. “You don’t have to grill her.”
“This was your idea,” Rain retorted. “And if you want something from me, you have to give me something, too. And if you don’t answer another single question, I want to know. Did you have sex with my husband in my own house, and in our bed?”
Morgan remembered being on the floor and seeing the wedding picture. How mad he was she’d been looking at it. She cleared her throat and replied, “Not in the bed.”
Rain closed her eyes, and something like a quiver passed across her face.
She opened her eyes and spoke. “Your mother wants me to say that TJ loved me. That he can’t be in love with you because he loves his wife. I have no idea what to think anymore, but you answered my question, so I’ll give you this much. He swore on his knees to be a better husband to me. He was crying with joy when our baby turned out to be okay, after a scare, and he swore that he would be a good father . . .”
The Whole Golden World Page 30
