His Other Wife

by Deborah Bradford

  It didn’t matter to Seth. The damage had been done. And the most bizarre part of all, Seth felt a strange sense of relief. He didn’t have to be anything for his mom anymore. He didn’t have to feel guilty about not being what she expected. But this lawyer was throwing a barrage of questions out there; he still didn’t get it.

  Address? Birthday? You’re already eighteen, aren’t you? That poses a problem.

  What happened last night when you and Laura Moore were together? Approximate time you started on the climb? How much alcohol had you consumed? How much have you told the police?

  Did the officer force you to submit to the Breathalyzer test or did you consent? To your knowledge, had Laura been drinking, too? Has she ever mentioned being unhappy?

  Did she seem depressed? Is it possible she was suicidal? Could she have done it on purpose?

  Seth choked back a sound of grief halfway between a sob and a shout of rage. “You don’t get it.” He slammed his hand against the cinder-block wall. His knuckles were bleeding again. “How can you make it sound like it was her fault? It was me.”

  “Look, Seth. You may have already condemned yourself to a life behind bars. But like it or not, unless you go out and do something else stupid, that isn’t going to happen. Other than an MUI, which is a pretty hefty problem, they can’t charge you with anything else. It was an accident.”

  “But it was my fault. I was the one who convinced her to climb with me.”

  “You said so yourself, Seth: You were the one who convinced her. But she let herself be convinced, didn’t she? I know how you feel, but she didn’t have to agree.”

  Seth leaned his head against the cinder blocks. “I did it, don’t you see? If not for me, it wouldn’t have happened. Don’t tell me you know how I feel.”

  “Oh, believe me. I do. My wife died four years ago. I know how it feels to deal with pain. I know how it feels to blame yourself for something.”

  When the lawyer added nothing to that, Seth asked, “How do you know what blame feels like?”

  “Because my wife died in a car accident. I was driving.”

  The news hit Seth like a fist in the stomach. He didn’t know what to say. The silence hung between them, as firm and solid as the cinder-block jail wall. It took Seth awhile before he could even speak at all. “So are you doing this as some big favor to my mom or something?” he asked at last. “No lawyer would want to take this case.”

  “What I’m doing is this: We all have to deal with what we have to deal with. I don’t care that you feel sorry for yourself because you aren’t perfect. So you made a big mistake that hurt someone. You don’t get to check out; I’m not going to let you. Life doesn’t work that way.”

  Seth didn’t have to take this. He hung up. The guy was lying. Seth slumped against the wall and tried to make the disembodied lawyer voice fade into background noise.

  Once Seth was finished at the phone, they dragged him back for the health check, when they went over every inch of him looking for diseases and took his weight, his height, as if he were going to belong to the state forever. When they slammed the stethoscope against his chest during the health exam, he felt so empty that it surprised him they even found a heartbeat. Seth’s biggest fear wasn’t that Laura Moore would die. It was walking out of this place and knowing he didn’t fit into his world anymore. It was walking out of this place and knowing the person he’d been didn’t exist anymore. A black hole had been ripped in Seth’s universe and he’d been the one who’d fallen through.

  Pam awoke to Lily’s voice from the adjoining doorway. “Mommy?”

  She sat up in the bed and held out her arms to her daughter. “Lily? What is it? Little goose, come here. Did you have a bad dream? Why are you awake?”

  “Daddy’s phone was ringing.”

  “Was it?” Pam patted the hotel mattress beside her. “Here. Climb up. I don’t think it rang. You must have dreamed it. We didn’t hear anything.”

  “That’s because it’s in Ben’s and my room. Daddy left it there when he tucked us in.”

  Eric had rolled over and was surveying them through sleepy, squinted eyes. “Why are you two awake?”

  “Honey. I think your phone rang.”

  “I didn’t hear it.”

  “Lily said it woke her up. You left it in the kids’ room.”

  “My phone? Really?” He rolled out, taking half the covers with him, and went in search of it. He came back, still bleary-eyed, trying to read the screen. “Yeah. It says I got a call.” He punched a button and held it against his ear.

  From her place beside him, Pam could hear the request for a password, the first words of a message. She sat up straighter and hugged Lily against her chest. “Honey, who is it?”

  His brow had furrowed. He held up his hand. After he’d listened, he punched it off. “That was Hilary.”

  “Oh my word.”

  “What’s she doing? It’s crazy.”

  “Something could be wrong, Eric.”

  He was already dialing Hilary back. “I know.”

  Ben appeared in the doorway, too, scrubbing his eyes. “Mom? What is it?”

  Pam certainly hoped Hilary had a good reason, disturbing them all. Yes, Hilary worked crazy hours on her nursing shifts. And yes, she was the mother of a teenager. But surely the woman had enough sense of reality to understand that other people tried to sleep during the night.

  Pam’s next thought: Seth. Fear clawed the back of her throat.

  “Your dad’s phone rang; that’s all.” Then, to Eric, touching his arm: “Honey. The party.”

  When the central air turned on in the hotel room, the curtains opened a crack to reveal the high-rises of downtown Chicago. Even so early in the morning, the buildings shone in a collage of silver and glass and light. Pam propped her head on the top of Lily’s and absently scratched Ben’s shoulder.

  “Hilary?” Eric asked when the call rang through. “I saw you called.”

  Pam watched her husband as, in the light that fell in through the curtain, his face went the color of stone. With her children wedged on either side of her, she waited for him to reveal clues about what had happened. The knot bulged in his jaw again, the one she’d grown accustomed to whenever he was hurt and angry. He asked only a few questions, which Pam couldn’t decipher.

  Do you know where they took him? How long ago? Has he called you? They brought her to your hospital? You talked to the mother?

  When Eric hung up, he looked at Pam and said this one thing: “You were right, Pam. You were right all along.”

  He sat on the side of the bed and stared at the clock as one minute escaped into another.

  Chapter 12

  Hilary sat halfway hunched in her chair in the dirty basement, staring at the toes of her shoes. If she stared at her shoes, she didn’t have to see anything else. She didn’t have to see the rows of WANTED posters. She didn’t have to listen to the door that buzzed open and then latched shut with a sharp click. She didn’t have to notice the phone ringing for hours because no one would answer. She didn’t have to see the heavy traffic of detainees moving in and out of the door, their faces lined no matter how young they were, their eyes empty.

  She didn’t glance up until her ex-husband walked in the door. When he entered, she unfolded from her chair and stood. He stopped in front of her. “Hello, Eric.” She saw his Adam’s apple slide up, then down as he swallowed.

  It seemed there was no proper way to greet each other now that his new wife wasn’t there, now that Hilary had told him she needed him, now that their son was in trouble. She didn’t open her arms. He didn’t offer to hold her. They waited, only a breath’s distance from each other, while each of them thought about the painful moments that had passed between them, none of them as painful as this one.

  The jail had a reputation as one of the largest city jails in the country. As far as size as well as other things went, the Sun-Times likened it to a prison. It was overcrowded; there could be thousands of inmates on
any one day. Who knew what sort of people Seth would be with in a holding cell? Murderers and armed robbers. Thugs of the worst kind. It hadn’t taken Hilary long to understand that criminal charges were different from anything they’d ever experienced before.

  “I called John Mulligan,” she said.

  “Is he on his way?”

  “He’s already been in to see Seth. He was here before I arrived.”

  The lawyer had been fast to take down the pertinent details — everything the officer had told her when he called, everything else she’d been able to glean about the accident from what Gina had told her, everything she’d seen at the hospital.

  “Are there going to be charges against him?”

  “I don’t know. I just…wanted someone to be with Seth. I didn’t want him to be alone.”

  Then Eric asked, “You called him before you called me, didn’t you?”

  “Well, you know. There are some people you can just trust.” Hilary could have pinched herself for saying the words. It sounded awful the way they came out.

  During the horrible months when Eric and Hilary had been trying to keep their heads about their broken relationship, trying to come to some amicable means of dividing their property and their child and the wrenches in the garage and Gran’s Christmas china, John Mulligan had seen the wounds of the war. He knew the worst in each of them, how helpless Hilary had been, how brutal and condemning she and Eric had been to each other. John had been instrumental in working out the initial court agreement to trade Seth back and forth according to a set schedule. And when Eric had married Pam and moved to California, he had forfeited that. Although it had disrupted Seth’s two-a-days in the summer and his coaches had acted like Hilary had encouraged their star player to hold out on an NFL contract and robbed them of a team, Hilary made sure Seth made a trip to see Eric. And Seth had always been happy to visit his dad.

  “I’m glad you called John. If we need him, he’ll do a good job.”

  “I didn’t know how you would feel about it. He was the only one I knew.”

  Eric nodded toward the cell phone she hadn’t realized she still gripped in her hand. “He’ll let us know what’s going on?”

  Hilary nodded.

  “You know we were planning on leaving tomorrow. But maybe I shouldn’t go back right now,” Eric said. “Pam and the kids could go back, but I — I’ve got personal days coming at the office. I could use them to spend some time with Seth. I don’t want to leave the two of you alone while you go through this.”

  Somewhere in the background, a buzzer sounded, the sound of a clanging gate. “I know what you want to say,” he admitted when she stayed silent. “I know, and I deserve it. If I wanted to be there for Seth, I should have thought about it long ago.”

  Hilary glanced up and touched Eric’s arm. She saw motion at the far end of the corridor. For a moment, she couldn’t make out faces. All she could see was a battalion of uniforms, an entire battery of badges and sidearms and broad-chested men. They looked as grim as if they were escorting some notorious war criminal to the gallows. Then, as the group moved toward the security doors and the warden, who was sitting behind a tall spare desk, buzzed the doors open, an officer stepped aside and Hilary saw Seth.

  Bloody scratches crosshatched one side of his jaw. A bruise bloomed on his chin. He looked so small and pale and disheveled that Hilary almost didn’t recognize him. When had she started thinking that this boy was a grown man?

  The escorting officers left Seth at the desk to be processed out. “You his parents?” the guard asked. “Which one of you is going to sign the release papers?”

  They sprang from their seats. “Only need one of you.” The guard opened a box that one of the officers had given him. Hilary walked forward and picked up the pen, which was attached to the desk with a beaded chain. Guess in this place you really had to worry about people stealing the pen. The guard marked where she needed to sign with a series of x’s. Hilary sifted through the wrinkled pages and scribbled her name.

  Each of Seth’s belongings had been identified with a yellow hangtag, and one by one the warden removed the tags and handed them over. Seth’s smartphone. (Hilary had tried to call him. Had it been ringing and ringing in this box?) His wallet. The watch she had given him for graduation. A pack of Wrigley’s spearmint. A handful of change.

  Hilary was thinking, What would it be like to be locked away for seventy years and, upon your departure, have the exact coins handed back to you? The ones that had been in your pocket a lifetime ago? The ones that had been there when you’d been a different person? The coins would be the same, but you wouldn’t be.

  Seth sorted through his items and didn’t pocket them right away. He picked up his smartphone and examined it as if it didn’t belong to him anymore. He had to have dozens of messages. Hilary alone had left three of them.

  Oh, Lord, she prayed. What can I do to help my son?

  Seth picked up his wallet and thumbed through to make sure everything was there. Hilary could see that his thumb had been inked; they’d taken a mug shot and his fingerprints. Seth glanced over, saw his waiting father, and his face slammed shut.

  Eric looked at Hilary. I’ll meet you at the house, his eyes told her.

  Hilary returned to the chairs where they’d been waiting, clutching her keys and her handbag. Her stomach was roiling. Don’t let him chase you away, she wanted to say. No matter how he acts, he doesn’t want you to leave him. Then, because they had nothing else left besides solidarity, she gripped Eric’s hand.

  Chapter 13

  Don’t you have Kleenex? A napkin? Anything?” Seth rifled through the glove compartment, shoving aside the insurance papers. “Does this ink come off ? I’ve got to get this ink off my fingers.” He dug out a wrinkled napkin and scrubbed his hands hard enough to take the skin off. Still the stain, the dark blotches etching the whorls and loops of his fingertips, remained.

  His head hit the headrest again.

  “Seth,” his mother said.

  “Laura’s really messed up.”

  “Honey.”

  “It should have been me.”

  “No.”

  “I should be unconscious at that hospital.”

  “It was an accident. A freak accident, Seth. You couldn’t have known.”

  “Yeah. Right. It would have happened anyway. She would have climbed that bluff by herself, even if I hadn’t talked her into it. Even if I hadn’t promised her that I wouldn’t let anything happen to her.” He slammed the dashboard with his fist. “Stupid.”

  “Seth. Don’t.”

  “Mom. I can’t do anything right. Not anymore.” He couldn’t look at his mom. He didn’t want to talk about it anymore. His anger and guilt felt strangely satisfying. All those years of living up to their expectations. All those years of being the “good boy.” He felt like an animal inside him had been sprung free. He didn’t have to pretend.

  When they arrived home, Hilary elbowed her way in from the garage door. “Are you up, Mother? Where are you?” But she already knew the answer. The smell of strong coffee drifted from the kitchen.

  “She’s up,” Pam said as Alva lifted a cup to her lips and slurped. “I phoned her.” Pam stood in the kitchen with Hilary’s cheese grater in one hand and a hunk of Monterey Jack in the other. “I thought she needed to know what was happening.”

  It was true, then. There was no magic time-out when your life started falling apart. Things didn’t stop to let you grieve or let you blame yourself or let you pull yourself together. The realities kept shooting their relentless darts, the dishwasher that needed to be emptied, the bills that were overdue, the woman whom your husband had fallen for when he’d gotten tired of you. Pam seized the wooden spoon, tucked the bowl inside the crook of her arm, and whipped the eggs into a small cyclone.

  When Seth walked in the room and saw Pam, his jaw clamped so tight he looked like he might break a tooth. He didn’t ask the question, but everyone in the room could tell
what he was thinking.

  What’s she doing here?

  “Seth. Honey.” Hilary reached for him.

  “I’m going to my room,” he announced.

  At that moment, Pam seemed not to notice Seth’s reaction at all. “In case you don’t remember, we suggested you not let him go camping, Hilary.” Pam’s every accusation played in rhythm to the thumping spoon.

  “Seth is a responsible adult.” But, for the first time, Hilary wondered if she might be lying, to Seth, to herself. The video rewound in her head, the one of Seth being escorted toward her by the officers, the moment they’d stepped aside to reveal, not the young man she’d expected, but the broken, hurt little boy.

  “This day would have been completely different if you had let him go with us last night.”

  “How did you get here, Pam? Taxi? Bus? Did my mother come to pick you up? What?”

  Pam used the fork to stab a pat of butter and ring it around the pan. “That’s just the problem. He is classified as an adult. An eighteen-year-old. The timing couldn’t be worse for a kid getting in trouble with the law.”

  “This isn’t the time.”

  “It never is.” The butter sizzled and spattered as Pam poured egg into the pan.

  “She took a taxi.” Alva set her cup down hard in the saucer. “I wouldn’t have gone to pick her up. Not this morning. Not like this.”

  Where had Eric gone? Hilary could hear the rhythmic ping ping ping of a basketball bouncing on pavement and she realized he must have gone to the side yard to keep the kids distracted.

  Hilary remembered Gina saying what seemed a lifetime ago that Hilary needed to show Pam who was ahead in the cooking department. She grabbed a tomato, pierced its skin with a knife, and watched it hemorrhage onto the counter. “If we have anything to discuss at all, it’s how to best support Seth after what’s happened.” Pam didn’t step aside. Hilary reached across her to get the cutting board. “You have no idea how badly he’s hurting.” Hilary hewed the tomato into pieces, added basil.