One Last Thing

by Rebecca St. James

  Lexi just shook her head at me and said, “What dress?”

  And then she burst into tears. I let the quesadilla drop to the plate.

  “Lex,” I said. “I’m sorry.”

  “No—don’t be sorry. I’m just so relieved.”

  “Okay, you’re gonna explain that to me, right?” I handed her the bandana.

  “Now we can talk,” she said. “Or not talk, but now we know what we’re not talking about.”

  “You know what’s scary about that?”

  She shook her head.

  “I actually know what you mean.”

  A laugh bubbled from her nose, along with a glob of something that really needed the bandana. “Why do women always look so beautiful when they cry in movies?” she said.

  “Except Vanessa Redgrave in that old version of Camelot, remember? She looked so miserable.”

  “Do I?” Lexi said.

  “No,” I said. “You look beautiful.”

  TWENTY-ONE

  I wasn’t the only one making phone calls. I got two myself in the next few days, calls that kept the spin going.

  The first came right after I met with Ned Friday. It was Fritzie. When I answered she said, “Holy frijoles, Batman.”

  “Hi, Fritz,” I said.

  “You poor kid.”

  “I’m okay.”

  “Right. This is me you’re talking to.” Her raspy voice went lower. “Look, I only have a couple of minutes. I’m starting a new gig today and this mother is expecting me to be Mary Poppins so I need to—well, what I need to do is get out of the nannying business but I love the kids so much. It’s the parents I can’t—anyway, yada yada yada—I just want to say this one thing to you.”

  I was sure there would be more than one thing so I sat on a bench in Madison Square.

  “I know what I’m talking about when I tell you this,” she said. “My father was an alcoholic. My brother was a drug addict. All the addictions have stuff in common.”

  “Their brain chemistry changes.”

  She gave a soft grunt. “I hadn’t heard that one. Here’s what I do know. The people who run these programs are all into addicts figuring out what happened in their pasts that made them susceptible to getting hooked on whatever. That’s all fine and good, but when you get right down to it, they either stop what they’re doing or they don’t.”

  “I’m not exactly following you,” I said.

  “Don’t let Seth spend years digging into his childhood. Okay, so he had a mother who wasn’t warm and fuzzy and a father who couldn’t teach him to kick a soccer ball. Wah-wah, you know? I practically raised Seth Grissom and I know he never suffered any kind of psychic pain. If he wants to think that and it helps him sleep at night, fine, but Tara, don’t let him wallow in ‘poor me’ while he keeps looking at porn sites. See what I’m saying?”

  If she’d asked me if I agreed with it, that would have been a whole other thing. I didn’t, not entirely, but I could still say, “Yeah. I see.”

  “Good. Okay, I gotta go find an umbrella that will float me into this woman’s living room. I sure wish I could get a gig like I had with y’all when you were growing up. And here’s the thing—and the whole reason I called.” There was a funny silence that made me think I’d lost the call, but she continued. “I loved all four of you, but Tara . . .” Fritzie’s throat clogged. “I told you this before: you were the special one, and I just want you to have the happiest life you can have. You deserve it, okay?”

  “Okay, Fritz,” I said.

  “I gotta go. Kiss Madeline for me.”

  I processed that with the Watch later and we sorted it out into two piles: find the reasons you’re an addict and stop indulging your addiction.

  “What do you see when you look at that?” Betsy said.

  “I think it feels contrived,” I said.

  Gray looked at Ms. Helen. “Do you love her vocabulary or what?”

  “I do,” Ms. Helen said. “What do you mean, honey?”

  “I don’t think you can totally separate one from the other. And besides, Seth said in his letter that he was molested and Fritzie doesn’t know everything about our families. I know more than she does, and even I didn’t know that.”

  “So what’s your plan?” Gray said.

  “Nothing different from what I’m already doing,” I said. “Except, I think I’ll stop listening to everybody else’s advice. Except y’all’s.”

  Ms. Helen gave me a blank look. “I don’t recall us giving much advice. Except eat and pray.”

  “I think we’re just askin’ the questions,” Betsy said.

  “Then please keep doing it,” I said. “Oh, and can I ask you one?”

  “Do it,” Gray said.

  I suddenly felt middle-school shy. “Would it be okay if I brought Lexi to meet with us sometime?”

  “I would love to meet this sweet thing,” Ms. Helen said.

  Gray grinned. “Pretty soon Ike’s going to start charging us rent on this table.”

  “No,” Ike called from the counter. “Just keep ordering; that’s all.”

  The man had the hearing of a bat.

  My second phone call came Saturday morning. Daddy had gone to the airport to pick up Mama. GrandMary wasn’t going to start radiation for another two weeks and she insisted Mama come home and tend to us and then go back if GrandMary really needed her. I still hadn’t talked to GrandMary myself and I was glad. Mama didn’t know about the pornography and I was afraid I’d let something slip. Daddy’s plan was to tell her on the way home from the airport, and then we’d sit down over breakfast and talk about how we were going to deal with it as a family. I was looking forward to that in a guarded sort of way.

  So I was setting the table in the small dining room when my phone rang, and it was Evelyn.

  “Evvy!” I said.

  “Did you hear?”

  “Did I hear what?”

  “You probably didn’t. I only heard it being whispered behind closed doors. I’m turning into a better spy than Jason Bourne—”

  “Evvy, what?”

  “Seth got fired.”

  I dropped an entire handful of silverware on the table.

  “I guess I should have asked if you were sitting down,” Evelyn said. “Sorry.”

  But she didn’t sound sorry at all. There was a hint of triumph in her voice that made the hair on my arms stand up.

  “Was it because of the newspaper article?” I said.

  “They found out from the article but they fired him because he’s a fraud. Did I not tell you that?”

  I might have asked Evelyn right then if she was glad about this, but in the first place it was obvious she was. And in the second place, I also probably would have blurted out my sudden insight: You’re the one who went to the press, aren’t you?

  In the third place, I heard the garage door open, meaning Mama and Daddy were home, and in the fourth, the doorbell rang.

  “I have to go, Ev,” I said. “I’ll call you later.”

  “Do. I’m working today but come by the ’Shroom.”

  I hung up on the way to the front door and called over my shoulder, “I’ll be right there, Mama.” I wanted to get rid of whoever this was so I could go to her. She was probably a mess by now. This shouldn’t be hard since nobody we knew ever came to the front—

  I pulled it open to find Paul and Randi standing there.

  If it isn’t the Brothers Grimm, I wanted to say.

  “We need to talk to you,” Randi said.

  “Now’s not a good time,” I said. “Mama just got home.”

  “Good. She needs to hear this.”

  In her usual brazen fashion Randi pushed past me and tilted her head as if she were listening for people who might be in hiding. There was no need. Daddy, Mama, and Kellen’s voices were all chiming from the kitchen like the come-and-get-it dinner bell. Randi charged toward them with Paul and me behind her. Fortunately she was quick on her feet because if I caught her, I would h
ave done her bodily harm. Look out, Psalm 109.

  When we got to the kitchen Daddy’s arms were loaded with Mama’s bags, Kellen was already grinding beans for coffee, and Mama herself looked like she was trying to remember where she was. And why wouldn’t she? Moments ago she’d learned what the rest of us already knew and none of us could believe.

  All three of them stopped and stared as we invaded the kitchen with Randi in the lead. The first thing I saw was Kellen’s entire face darkening like a thunderhead.

  “I’m glad you’re all here,” Randi said. “I—”

  “Paul, for Pete’s sake,” Daddy said. “Madeline just got home. Her mother’s ill—”

  Paul immediately shmushed his face into pastor mode. “I had no idea.” He gave Mama a pitying look. “Is it serious?”

  “She’s holding her own,” Daddy said.

  “I’m sorry,” Randi said, eyes closed as if that was the only way she could tolerate this. “I really am, Maddie. You know I love your mother.”

  Mama still hadn’t spoken a word. She just gave Randi an infinitesimal nod.

  “If you need to go lie down, regroup, whatever, do. But I think the rest of you need to hear this.”

  Mama and Daddy exchanged glances and apparently came to the consensus that Mama was staying. At that point we were still standing between the sink and the snack bar with Randi in the middle in full command. Bless my father. He apparently sized that up in short order and pretty much herded us to the breakfast nook, where, still, nobody sat down, but at least I didn’t feel like Randi was halfway down my throat. Not physically anyway.

  “So what’s this about?” Daddy said.

  “I just want to let you all know that I plan to have a private investigator look into who went to the newspaper.” Randi breathed in sharply through her nose. “When he finds out, and he will, I’m filing a defamation of character suit.”

  “Really,” Daddy said. “Is it still defamation if it’s the truth?”

  Nothing about Daddy changed when he said that except the skin around his eyes, which tightened until I thought it might snap.

  Randi wheeled on him. “I didn’t intend for this to turn ugly, Dennis. I came as a courtesy to Tara.”

  I knew I looked vacant. “I don’t care if you hire an investigator. I want to know who did it too.”

  “That’s not what I mean, Tara.” Could she be a little more condescending?

  Kellen groaned from the snack bar. “Geez, just say it, Randi.”

  “Fine.” Randi pointed her courtroom eyes at me. “I’m giving you an opportunity to admit that it was you.”

  My whole being seized.

  “Do that and we’ll settle this quietly. I think we’ve all had enough scandal and notoriety.”

  “You. Are. Not. Serious.” Whether she heard that coming through my welded-together teeth I couldn’t tell, but she did see me lunge at her because she backed into Mama. Startled didn’t begin to describe the look that sprang to her face. Kellen grabbed me from behind by both arms and held me against him while I breathed like a freight train.

  “Why would I do that?” I said. “I love Seth!”

  “But you didn’t love him enough to marry him.” I looked aghast at Paul. “If you had stood behind him from the beginning, this wouldn’t have happened.”

  “And then it would all be behind closed doors for Tara to handle by herself.”

  I’m not sure anyone even had a pulse as we all turned to my mother. Chin tilted, she looked up at Paul with a blue blaze. I knew she’d actually said it because it was still etched around her mouth.

  “I think you folks need to leave,” Daddy said.

  “My offer is good for twenty-four hours,” Randi said. “If I don’t hear from you with a confession, the PI goes to work.”

  Daddy bore down on her with his eyes. “First, shut it, Randi. Then leave. And do not make personal contact with my daughter again.” His head thrust forward. “Are we clear?”

  “Very.” Randi glowered at me. “I don’t want to have my face clawed.”

  We Faulkners stood like a statue garden until the front door slammed on the Grissoms. Kellen was the first to move. He paced around the kitchen for about fifteen seconds and then did his own slam out the back door. I went to Mama and put my arms around her.

  “I can’t stand that you have to go through this.”

  She kept her face buried in my neck, but her words were clear—the words I had never given her credit for being able to say. “We are going through this,” she said, breath soft against my skin. She pulled away just far enough to look deep into me. “I meant what I said. You shouldn’t handle this alone.”

  I curled the corduroy sleeve of her jacket into my fingers. She felt solid enough for me to cling to her and not fall.

  Daddy rubbed his hand against her back. “And can I just say I’m glad you’re on our side, darlin’. You flat took Paul Grissom out at the knees.”

  Mama gave us a damp smile. “I did, didn’t I?” she said.

  She and I spent the day together since I was off work. Talk and tea and tears were woven with regret on my part. I’d underestimated my parents. Or was it just the pull Seth had on me to protect him from the shame that stalked him?

  Or the shame that followed me?

  It had caught us, hadn’t it? But I didn’t have to let it shred me with its claws, because it wasn’t just me facing it now. And it had never had to be.

  That was why when Mama and Daddy retired around nine, I told them I had to see a friend and made tracks for the Mellow Mushroom. It was time to clear the air with Evelyn.

  I guess I looked like I was spoiling for a fight because when Evelyn saw me she came straight to the door and pushed me outside with a bony hand. The night was on the edge of chilly, but that didn’t seem to faze her, even in a tank top and a skirt that looked like it was made out of first aid gauze.

  “You’re going to deck Randi, aren’t you?” she said. “Finally.” She leaned against the window. “I’d have popped her weeks ago, but that’s just me. I still might.”

  I hadn’t rehearsed this on my way over, so I had to plunge in with improv.

  “She thinks I told the press about Seth,” I said.

  I watched her olive eyes.

  “You? Why would you do it?”

  “Exactly.”

  “She’s certifiable.”

  “Maybe she’s going down the list of people who knew,” I said. “I was at the top.”

  “Who’s gonna be next? Me?”

  I tried, so hard, not to flinch, but Evelyn must have caught—what?—an intake of breath? My heart rate picking up? My complete inability to pull off a poker face?

  “You think I did it?”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “You didn’t have to.” Evelyn pulled herself from the window and darted her eyes in seven different directions before she homed back in on me. “Look, I can’t stand my brother and I think he deserves to be exposed for the tawdry fraud he is.” She shook her head, hard. “But I would never do that to you. How many times do I have to tell you people that?”

  “Why do you hate him so much, Evvy?”

  She stopped flailing. “Where’s that coming from?”

  “I don’t know.” And I didn’t. But somehow I had to know.

  “Okay.” Evelyn’s face set as if I’d just challenged her to a dare. “I don’t think you’ll get it since you have a brother who protected you from the time you were an infant, if family legend is to be believed.”

  “It’s true,” I said.

  “Mine never did.”

  “Yeah, but Evvy, who among us really needed protecting? We were more sheltered than Chelsea Clinton.”

  “You don’t know.”

  Her voice went so low and flat with fear, I had to peer closely to make sure she’d actually said it. I realized she wasn’t seeing me anymore. Her mind had taken her sight with it to whatever memory she was suddenly trapped in.

  “It was
bad,” she said. “It was something bad and he didn’t keep it from happening. I shouldn’t have been there.”

  “What happened?” I whispered.

  “I can’t remember. It was just something bad.”

  The fear left her eyes and anger replaced it, and then the feigned apathy that had lived there for almost as long as I could remember.

  “So no, I didn’t out my brother to the press,” she said. “I gotta get back inside.”

  “Ev, I’m sorry,” I said.

  “Whatever,” she said.

  When she was gone, it was my turn to lean on the window, while a deep sadness weighed my shoulders down. That was relationship number three gone, and in spite of Evelyn’s prickliness I felt the worst about this one. There was something else, too, something dark and haunting. Evelyn was telling the truth. She always told the truth. That was why she was so hard to be around.

  The door opened and I decided it was time to move on before I was picked up for loitering, but Evelyn’s voice stopped me. Only her head was visible.

  “I forgive you for thinking that,” she said. “You’re the only one I do forgive. And Tara?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Run away from my family—as fast and as far as you can.”

  TWENTY-TWO

  Nobody in the Faulkner house went to church Sunday, and I knew how hard that was for my parents. We were private with each other about our faith. I’d never discussed how I prayed or didn’t with my mother or what I believed with my father or how it played out with my brother. We could go for months without ever mentioning God’s name in our house except to say a blessing at the table, but somehow I just always figured we all believed. Church, though, that was always central to who we were as a family. It was probably part of the reason I went to St. John’s every day, just for a taste of church. Now Mama and Daddy didn’t even have that much, which made the loss of Seth-and-me wider and deeper.

  Maybe that was why on Monday I followed the rest of the small gathering up to the altar for communion. When Ned tucked a flat white wafer, thin as Mama’s pastry, into my hand, his fingers lingered as he said, “The Body of our Lord Jesus Christ, which was given for thee, preserve thy body and soul unto everlasting life.”