by Sophie Stern
“You may,” she steps aside and waits for me to come in. She clings to the door like it’s a lifeboat and then she shuts it behind me. She walks silently to the adjoining sitting room, and I follow her.
The room looks exactly the way I remember it, albeit a bit dustier. There’s less furniture now. I wonder if she had to sell some of it to pay her bills. Some of the paintings are gone: most of them, in fact. Strange. I feel like I’m visiting the remnant of a place I used to know and love.
I sit down on one of the dusty settees and my mother sits across from me. She folds her hands in her lap and looks at me, waiting for me to tell her why I’ve come.
Perhaps I should be polite, but with her, there’s never really any reason to be. My mother is all about propriety and politeness never gets you anywhere. We could be polite at each other all day long and never get through an actual conversation, so I might as well just be forthcoming and tell her what I want.
“Is it true that Mr. Riley took the fall for what happened between him and dad?”
In a shocking break of character, my mother jolts just the tiniest bit. I’ve surprised her with my question. That’s not easy to do. She quickly regains her composure, however, and reveals nothing on her face.
“What would make you ask a question like that?”
“I was going through some newspaper articles for a project,” I lie smoothly. “A few things didn’t add up.”
“Well, he’s dead,” my mother says. She reaches for a cup of tea she has sitting on the table between us. She sips it, but doesn’t offer to make me a cup. That’s just as well because I won’t be here very long. “So I suppose it won’t hurt to tell you now.”
“Tell me what?”
So it’s true, is it?
I suppose I should be thanking Emilia for giving me the heads up. I wish I had known long ago, but we were young and stupid and things were so different back then.
“Your father got a deal. That much is true. Riley confessed to everything and said it was all his idea and his plan. He said your father had no idea what was going on and that’s why your father received a shorter sentence.” She shook her head. “If the idiot had kept from getting killed, our lives would be very different today.”
I frown.
Why is she speaking about my father like this?
Gone is the grieving widow I remember. She certainly never said anything quite so abrupt when I was a kid, but now it almost seems like my mom isn’t sad at all about my dad’s passing.
“Why would he do that?” I ask. “Why would Mr. Riley take the fall?”
My mother laughs, but it’s a cold sort of sound.
“Again,” she says. “I hadn’t planned on telling you, but he is dead now, and he’s not coming back. Who gives a care in the world about his perfect reputation?”
She sets her tea down and stands up, smoothing her dress. She walks to a rolling desk that’s in the corner. I don’t know that I’ve ever seen anyone use that desk and I honestly have no idea why it’s there, but she rolls the top and messes around for a minute. Then she comes back with a business card and sets it on the coffee table in front of me.
I lean forward and look at it.
“It’s dad’s card.”
There are two R’s intertwined: Reynolds and Riley. Dad and Mr. Riley had their own company for many years. They did a lot of investing and they were good at what they did. They were too good, apparently, and it got them into more trouble than it was worth.
“Two R’s,” my mother taps the card. She shakes her head. “I should have known then.”
“Known what?”
“What kind of man wants a business with his best friend?” She shakes her head. “What kind of man chooses a logo that’s so...intimate?”
My stomach turns as I try to reconcile with what she’s hinting at.
Is she trying to tell me that they weren’t just close?
“What are you saying?” I ask.
My mother sits back and closes her eyes. She shakes her head, and all of a sudden, she seems so very...old. She just seems old: old and tired. I know that she’s been through a lot, but I never really noticed it wearing on her until now.
Now I just feel bad for her.
Now I want to know what she’s going to tell me and I wish that this visit would just be over.
“I had my suspicions for many years, but it wasn’t until that last year they were finally confirmed. His wife, Marcia, had come over for tea.”
“You and Mrs. Riley were friends.”
“Of course. We were all friends,” she says the word friends sarcastically, like that wasn’t what they were at all.
“What happened, mother?”
“A text message.”
“A text?”
She nods.
“Marcia spilled her tea and your father set his phone down. He rushed to her to help her clean it up. Together, they stepped into the other room to get some towels, and your father’s phone buzzed. I looked at it.”
She shook her head.
“I never had before, you know. He was always so private with his phone and never let anyone even get close to it. I don’t know why I chose that time to look at it. I guessed at the password. Lucky me: it was your birthday. I read the text.”
“Mother, what did it say?”
Suddenly, I’m sitting on edge, and my entire body feels cold.
She looks up at me, and her eyes are hollow.
“It was a message from Mr. Riley,” she says. “And suffice it to say, he and your father were a lot more than just friends.” She shakes her head as though she still can’t believe it after all of this time.
The realization that my father was having an affair hits me like a punch to the gut, and I sit back against the settee.
So that’s why Riley went to jail for my dad.
That’s why he took the fall.
They weren’t just friends.
They were lovers, and Riley couldn’t bear to see his partner suffering.
It also explains his suicide so shortly after my own father’s death. He couldn’t bear to live without him, I suppose.
“What did you do when you found out, Mom?” I ask.
“I put the phone down and I pretended I hadn’t seen anything. After that, your father left. He told me he was going to a poker game, but the text message had told me everything I needed to know. He was meeting his lover while their two wives were having tea.” She shakes her head. “We were such idiots, Marcia and I. We should have seen it.”
I’ve never been married.
I’ve never been in that place where I had to judge whether my partner was being honest or not, so I don’t know if I’d be able to tell, but something tells me that my mother truly regrets the fact that she couldn’t tell.
“It wasn’t your fault,” I say, but she’s not listening.
“We already knew about the embezzling. We weren’t complete dolts. We just kept quiet because it benefited us, but having our husbands run off together?” She shook her head. “That simply wouldn’t do. What would people say, Gavin? What would they think?”
“Wait,” I have to be misunderstanding this. She can’t be saying what I think she is. “You turned him in?”
All of these years, I’ve wondered how my father managed to get caught. How did he manage to get arrested? He was so careful, so meticulous. Together, he and Riley had carefully guarded their secrets from everyone.
“I had no choice,” she says coldly.
“Mother, there’s always a choice.”
“He was going to leave me for a man.” She looks away from me, but she doesn’t so much as shed a tear. “It would have destroyed me. It would have destroyed us.”
“The fact that you turned him in destroyed us!” I practically shout, jumping to my feet. “You took away my father from me.”
This entire time, it was her.
Yes, I know my father made some terrible decisions.
Yes, I know he was no he
ro.
Yes, I realize that he didn’t take his marriage vows seriously.
But he cheated on her.
My dad had never cheated on me.
And I lost him that day.
He didn’t just go to jail. He didn’t just get taken away. He went away forever. The court battle took months and once my dad was moved to a different prison, he fell apart. He was murdered because he was in the wrong place at the wrong time, and then I didn’t have him.
I didn’t get to know my dad because he made a bad choice, but in my mind, my mother’s choice was far worse.
My dad was a sinner, but my mother?
She was a traitor.
I stand up and leave the sitting room. I move through the empty hallway and out the front door. My mother doesn’t follow me at all. She doesn’t even call after me. I get outside, slip in the car, and start the engine. I drive away and glance back in my rearview mirror.
I see her standing in the living room, peering out of the curtains, for just a second, and then she’s gone.
Maybe it was my imagination.
Chapter 10
Emilia
I MANAGE TO MAKE IT through a day without having my phone, but I’m going to need it sooner, rather than later. I roll around on the bed, groaning with annoyance and frustration. I’m being an idiot. I need to talk to him, but I don’t want to.
Why can’t life just be simple again?
Why can’t they be easy?
There’s a knock at my door.
“Who is it?”
“Adalee. Let me in.”
Shit.
I shouldn’t have called out, but like a dumb-dumb, I did, and now I have to face her. Somehow, I propel myself out of the bed and go to the door. When it swings open, she gasps.
“Woah, you look like shit.”
“Thanks.”
“I don’t mean that to be offensive,” she pushes past me and comes into the room. She’s carrying some bags, but I don’t really want to know what’s inside of them.
“Well, it kind of is.”
“No,” she shakes her head and drops her bags onto my bed. “It’s not offensive. Get in the shower and we’ll talk when you’re done.”
“You aren’t my mom,” I say. “You can’t just come in here and boss me around.”
Shit, if it doesn’t feel terrible to have someone telling me that I’m not taking care of myself. I really have just been lying around moping all day. I didn’t go to class, feigning illness, but apparently, nobody really believes that.
“Shower,” she says, ignoring me.
I know that Adalee is really determined when she puts her mind to something. That’s how she’s managed to lose weight, keep her grades up, and follow a strict diet for so long. She’s the most put-together girl at Crescent Academy. Everything she does just makes her look even better and shine even more.
So it’s with only the tiniest amount of fighting that I go into my bathroom, lock the door, and turn on the shower. While the water is warming, I stare at myself in the mirror. My eyes look hollow and sad. There are dark circles under them and my hair has sort of matted to my head.
Gross.
Okay, so maybe I really do need this intervention.
Maybe I do need something to help me clear my mind because what happened yesterday was so not okay.
I shouldn’t have fallen for him.
I shouldn’t have let him get the best of me.
I shouldn’t have done any of that.
But I did.
Finally, I take off my clothes, get into the shower, and let the water wash away...everything. I just stand there and let the water rain down on me, washing away all of the grime and the sweat and the sadness.
It’s disgusting, but it had to be done, and Adalee was right for making me do this.
When I return to my bedroom wrapped in a towel, I’m surprised to see a fresh pair of pajamas and a bunch of makeup items on my bed.
“What’s this?”
“I’m giving you a makeover.”
“I don’t need a makeover.”
Adalee turns to me and her eyes narrow.
“Emilia, I put up with a lot of your shit. I deal with all of your teasing and your judgment about my lifestyle.”
What.
The.
Fuck?
Sweet Adalee suddenly doesn’t seem so sweet anymore.
“You know,” she continues. “For someone who hates bullies so much, you tend to act a lot like one.”
My stomach is in knots, and I suddenly feel completely sick. I don’t even deny what she’s saying. Is she right? Do I bully her just the way I feel like Gavin bullies me?
She stares at me, and for the first time, I notice something about Adalee.
She’s not weak at all.
She’s often quiet, but it’s not because she’s frail or fragile. It’s because of something else. It’s because she’s strong. More importantly, she’s used to being invisible and she knows how to use that to her advantage. I don’t know very much about Adalee, come to think of it. I don’t know her family history or how she came to live at Crescent Academy.
I just don’t know.
And it’s because I never took the time to get to know her.
Suddenly, I feel like the world’s biggest asshole, and I realize that I really have treated her the way Gavin treats me.
Okay, it might be on a smaller level. I haven’t purposely gone out of my way to taunt her or make her life hell, but I’m realizing suddenly that despite the fact that my teasing has, to me, always been good natured, maybe it really hasn’t.
Maybe I really have taken these things just a little too far.
“I’m sorry,” I tell her.
“I didn’t come here for an apology.”
“I’ve been a royal bitch to you.”
She doesn’t say anything, but she doesn’t have to.
“Let’s just get you dressed, okay? You can’t live in that towel all night.”
She thrusts the bag at me and starts fiddling with the makeup and lotions while I slip into the world’s softest pajamas.
“Where did you get these?” I ask. I don’t even want to know how much they cost. I already know I can never repay her.
“Don’t worry about it,” she says simply. “It’s a gift, Emilia. Just take the gift.”
“Adalee?” I whisper, looking down at the soft fabric.
“Yeah?”
“Thank you.”
“Sit down, Emilia.”
I sit on the edge of my bed and remain perfectly still as Adalee starts to blow-dry my hair. She works through my curls, carefully taking the time to make sure each lock looks perfect. In my opinion, Adalee is hands-down the most lovely girl at our school, but some people might beg to differ. I don’t see how they could, though. She’s always totally put-together. Her makeup always looks nice.
She’s got a great smile.
And she’s caring.
“You know, I was like you once.”
“You sound like an old woman.”
“Shut up and listen, okay?”
“Fine,” I grumble, but I really am curious.
“I used to think that everyone was out to get me,” she says. “And I lashed out, like, a lot.”
“That doesn’t seem like you.”
“Yeah, well,” she shrugs. “People change.”
“So what made you change?”
“I’m not going to tell you that,” she says. “But I will tell you that the things we go through shape us in ways deeper than we could possibly imagine.”
“That makes sense.”
“What Gavin did to you, well, most people would call that unforgiveable.”
“Not you?”
“I think the heart wants what it wants, Emilia. If you want to forgive him, that’s your decision. I can’t possibly tell you whether that’s the right choice or the wrong one. All I can do is help you with your hair.”
She steps back and hands m
e a mirror.
“Look at yourself.”
I lift up the mirror and I gasp at the transformation. I’m not sure why she styled my hair like this or what caused her to try to make me, out of all of the people at the school, to look beautiful, but she did, and I can’t really do anything but smile at that.
“Thank you.”
“Your eyes aren’t hollow anymore, and your heart shouldn’t be, either.”
I look up at her and Adalee smiles gently.
“No matter what he’s done, and no matter what you’ve done,” she says. “Communication is the best way forward.”
“Since when did you get to be so smart?”
“Let’s just say, I’ve seen some shit.”
“Okay.”
“I’m serious, Emilia. You should talk to him.” Her brow furrows, but she doesn’t seem to have any frown lines or wrinkles. Even when she’s frustrated, Adalee still always looks so perfect.
But I know that she’s right.
“Okay,” I say. “Tomorrow.”
“Don’t forget.”
“I’ll talk to him.”
She smiles at me and places a hand on my shoulder.
“Your hair really does look good,” she says. “It’s a pity you’re going to sleep and you’re going to mess it all up.”
“Why did you come over to style it before I go to sleep?” I ask. It’s kind of bothering me, actually.
“Everyone deserves a happy ending, Emilia. Sometimes we just need someone to give us a push. When you don’t feel beautiful, or you don’t feel special, sometimes looking that way can help, and can give you the confidence push you need to get through.”
She starts gathering up her things quietly, and then Adalee gives me a little wave as she leaves my room. She closes the door behind herself and I’m left alone to fight with my thoughts.
What the hell have I gotten myself into?
Chapter 11
Gavin
I’M SILENT THE NEXT day at school.
To a certain extent, it feels like my world has ended all over again. Perhaps this feeling is wrong, but I’ve spent the last five years believing one truth only to discover that it’s all been a lie.
Not only has everything been a lie, but it’s been a big one: a master scheme designed to keep me from knowing not only who my father truly was, but who and what he cared about.
