by Jason Starr
The news report ended, sports came on, and Owen was still laughing. It made sense that the cops thought Karen did it. Everybody at the club always saw Karen and Mark hanging out together, and were talking about them behind their backs. One time Owen heard guys talking in the men’s room about how Karen and Mark were screwing. Even Deb was suspicious, telling Owen a couple of times how she didn’t like how Karen was flirting all the time with her husband. Obviously the cops thought Karen was jealous so she went out and killed Deb.
Owen continued laughing for a long time, as if he’d just heard the funniest joke in the world. Man, this couldn’t be working out any better for him. If the cops thought Karen did it that meant they wouldn’t think anyone else did. It also meant that Karen would be upset, feeling alone and needy, which meant she’d want a man to come along and comfort her. Not just any man, though—a young handsome man, somebody pure and innocent who was—wait for it—caring, and really got her in a way no older man could, and Owen knew that he was that man. He was actually the only man in the world who could help her now, give her what she needed. Was this the luckiest break or what? He’d thought it would take weeks, or months, to get Karen to love him the way Deb had, but now it would only take a few days or, fuck, a few hours. Karen was going to be desperate, she’d need support, and he’d be there, ready to give her everything she needed.
Oh, yeah baby, this was gonna be perfect.
KAREN WAS happiest in a routine. On days when her life went according to a predictable schedule—waking up, going for a run, doing yoga, getting the kids off to school, going to work, coming home, making the kids dinner, helping them with their homework, then getting them to bed and unwinding reading or watching TV, she felt the most at peace. Since her divorce, life had become more unpredictable, with many new responsibilities and concerns, and it had become more challenging to establish a routine, but she strove to find regularity in her life and cherished the times when she did.
So when she woke up, she decided that to counter all of the recent chaos in her life, she would try to make today, the beginning of a new work week, as simple and normal as possible. Her itching had subsided and she was apparently crab-free so, hallelujah, she already had one thing to be grateful for. After a nice Mark-less run around the beautiful misty lake, she did some light yoga, and then she made sure that Elana and Matthew were up. In the kitchen she made the kids’ lunches and fixed her usual morning cup of green tea. The first sip felt warm and relaxing in her throat and she felt energetic and optimistic and ready to take on the day.
Then she heard voices. Not in her head—yes, she’d been stressed lately but, no, she wasn’t totally whacko—there were voices, real voices, definitely coming from the direction of her living room. She figured it was the TV—was Matthew watching Pokémon when he was supposed to be getting ready for school? She went toward the living room, and said, “Matthew, what’re you…” and then realized the voices were actually coming from outside.
Outside? That was weird. This was the suburbs; there were never a lot of people outside, unless some sort of party was going on. But how could there be a party at around eight o’clock on a Monday morning? Then she peeked past the window shade and saw all the reporters and news trucks and she was even more confused. What the hell? She knew it couldn’t have anything to do with her, but it had to be something major.
Fearing that someone had gotten hurt, God forbid a child, she opened the front door. Several reporters rushed toward her, shouting questions, and she was so confused she couldn’t absorb or make sense of anything they were saying. Finally she heard something she understood: “Deborah Berman.” Deb? This was seriously about her? Though Karen still couldn’t process what any of this was about, hearing that name again irritated, making her think, Will this ever stop? Are the Bermans going to make my life hell forever?
“Deb Berman?” she asked. “What about Deb Berman?”
“You didn’t hear?” a reporter, a young guy with a beard, asked.
“Hear what?”
“She’s missing.”
Karen absorbed this, but she still didn’t get it, said, “Missing? What do you mean, missing?”
A female reporter with short dark hair and thick glasses explained that Deb’s car had been discovered in the parking lot at John Jay High School. Karen remembered how crazed, how irrational, Deb had been behaving yesterday at the country club and how Mark had said they were divorcing. Karen should have been upset, but her naturally empathetic nature took over and she wasn’t angry with Deb at all anymore—she was just worried.
“Oh my God,” Karen said, thinking about Mark and the kids. Despite how inappropriate he’d been lately, he was still a friend, and he had to be worried sick right now. She had an urge to call him, give him her support.
But now the reporter with the beard was asking, “Can you tell us about the fight you had with Deborah on Saturday?”
This was strange; why were they asking her about that?
“I don’t understand,” Karen said.
“We understand she attacked you,” the woman with the thick glasses said.
Oh, okay, Karen got it now—well, thought she got it. Maybe they were trying to determine if Deb was unstable on Saturday or unstable in general.
“Her behavior was very odd, yes,” Karen said. “I don’t know what she was upset about exactly, but I was concerned about her when I left. I really hope she’s okay.”
“Did you have another argument with her after you left the club?” an older male reporter who hadn’t said anything yet asked.
“No, I didn’t,” Karen said. “Why do you…” She stopped herself. She didn’t get why they kept harping on this, but she feared that it wasn’t appropriate to be answering these questions about Deb at all. After all, the most important thing right now was that Deb was safe and okay, not whether or not she was stable. So Karen added quickly, “I have to go, I’m sorry, thank you,” and went inside and shut the door.
Well, so much for a routine, relaxing morning. Karen was aware of how tight and stressed out her whole body was. She thought she’d gotten through the worst of it and now something else had come along to knock her down.
She needed to relax, do more yoga, but she was running late now and was too scattered to focus. Somehow, within a few minutes, she showered and dressed and got the kids out the door. The reporters were still outside and had more questions about Deb and the incident at the club on Saturday. What was up with this? Why wouldn’t they let up? The kids wanted to know what was going on, but Karen wanted to be careful; she didn’t want to frighten them and make them think something bad had happened, but she didn’t want to lie to them either.
In the car, turning off Savage Lane, Karen said, “The police are looking for Deb, but she’s going to be fine. She’s probably just away, staying with a friend or something.”
“Why would the police be looking for her if she’s at a friend’s?” Elana asked.
“Because that’s what the police do,” Karen said. “They have to look for her and ask questions, even when nothing’s wrong.”
“How come the people were asking you about a fight you had with her?” Matthew asked.
“Yeah,” Elana said. “What was that all about?”
“Nothing,” Karen said, regretting she’d started this conversation. “It doesn’t matter. What matters is that Deb is going to be fine.”
“Why are you acting so weird?” Elana asked. “Why won’t you tell us what’s going on?”
Glaring at Elana in the rearview, right at her daughter’s eyes, Karen didn’t say anything but got the message across.
No one said anything for the next maybe ten minutes.
At Elana’s school, Karen pulled over where she usually pulled over, down the street from the school because Elana didn’t want to be seen exiting a car that had her mom and brother in it, as if she wanted her friends to believe that she was a homeless orphan and had been magically teleported to school.
; “Have a nice day,” Karen said.
Elana mumbled something that may have been, “Thanks,” as she let the door slam.
Next, Karen dropped Matthew at his school. Matthew was young enough to not be snotty and said, “Goodbye” and “I love you” to Karen before he went into the building.
Finally on her way to work, Karen was exhausted, the way she usually felt at the end of the workday, not the beginning. She still couldn’t figure out why the reporters had kept asking her about the fight with Deb. Had Deb said something to Mark about it? Was there something Karen didn’t know? She knew they couldn’t have been suggesting that Karen had something to do with Deb’s disappearance. That couldn’t be it; that would be absolutely insane.
Karen put on the speakerphone and said “Mark,” and the call connected.
Mark picked up and in an excited tone said, “Hey, how are you?”
Shit, Karen had assumed that Mark would be in a worried, grieving state, but he still had that tone, as if he thought he was in love with her. What would it take for him to get past his obsession with her?
Mark’s behavior was annoying and pathetic but, focusing on the reason she’d called, she said, “I heard the news. I’m so sorry, but I’m sure everything’s going to be okay.”
“The police aren’t sure,” Mark said. “They seem seriously concerned.”
“Look, you have to stay positive right now. Just think good, positive thoughts.”
“I saw the reporters near your house,” Mark said. “Did they ask you about Saturday at the country club?”
“Yes, and I don’t understand why,” Karen said. “The focus should be on finding Deb, not about some stupid thing that didn’t mean anything.”
“I just want you to know.” Mark sounded serious, somber. “I don’t believe what they’re saying.”
“Saying?” Karen asked. “Saying about what?”
“About you,” Mark said. “I mean, I know Deb was upset, and I got you in the middle of our bullshit, and I’m sorry for that, but I know you’d never do anything to hurt Deb.”
All the blood in Karen’s body seemed to rush to her head.
“Excuse me,” she said. “What? What?”
“That’s what they’re saying, what the reporters are saying, but I know that’s just bullshit,” Mark said. “I mean, I know that’s not you, that’s not who you are, despite your feelings for me.”
“They’re saying that? How could they say that? How could… and feelings for you? What feelings for you? I’ve never had feelings for you. We’re friends, just friends, that’s all we are. I can’t… I can’t believe I’m even talking to you about this right now.”
Karen tasted salt on her lips and realized she was crying.
“It’s okay,” Mark said. “We don’t have to discuss this right now.”
“This is so fucked up,” Karen said. “This is fucking ridiculous.” She was losing control; she knew she should pull over, but she couldn’t because she didn’t want to be late for work. “Okay, where the hell is Deb anyway? Where did she go?”
“I don’t know,” Mark said.
There was something odd, tentative about Mark’s tone. Karen wondered, Was he hiding something? If their marriage was falling apart, he could’ve snapped and…
No. She didn’t want to even go there.
“Look, they’ll find her,” she said. “They’ll find her and everything will be okay.”
She wished she believed this.
“Thank you for saying that,” Mark said, his voice cracking, getting emotional.
Karen couldn’t help feeling bad for him. She asked, “How are your kids doing?”
“They seem okay,” Mark said. “Riley’s having a hard time, though. She’s very concerned. I took the day off work.”
“Just be strong for them. Did they go to school today?”
“They didn’t want to, but I insisted. I wanted them to have a normal day.”
“That’s good. That was smart.”
“I need you here, Karen.”
Shit, when he was he going to stop with this crap?
“Look, I’m sure everything’s going to be okay,” she said. “Just stay strong.”
“Can you come by later?” Mark asked. “I mean if Deb doesn’t come home by then.”
“She will come home.”
“But if she doesn’t, can you come by? Maybe bring the kids? It would be good for the kids to have your kids here with them.”
Although she felt a little manipulated—Mark knew that pulling “the kids card” always worked with her —Karen knew she couldn’t blow off him and his kids when they were going through something so difficult and needed support.
“Okay, I’ll be there later,” she said, “but I really don’t think it’s going to be necessary. She’ll come home any second now, you’ll see.”
“Thank you,” Mark said.
“Text me if there’s news,” she said. “Goodbye.”
Karen arrived about five minutes late for school. When she rushed up to the principal’s office for the morning staff meeting she noticed she was getting unusual looks from several of the other teachers and staff members. Her initial thought was that it was because of her lateness; she was usually prompt and maybe it had thrown people off. So she apologized, but as Lucy, the vice principal, was talking about a budget issue, Karen noticed that people, including Seth, the principal, were still looking at her weirdly. It almost seemed as if they were judging her and then, with a rush of shame, she realized this was because they were judging her. They must’ve heard the reports on the news, or one of them had heard and had told the others, but what exactly was the report on the news? Was it possible that that stupid incident at the country club was on the news? What did people think of her? What assumptions were they making? Did they think she was having an affair with a married man? Did they think she was crazy, had done something to hurt Deb? It had been bad enough that her kids had been affected by this, but if this was going to affect her work life, maybe even her career, that would be way too much.
The half hour meeting seemed to last half a day. Afterward, she wanted to avoid the phony conversations, people offering their support when they were probably actually suspicious. Lisa, a special ed teacher whom Karen was very close with, approached her in the hallway and said with a pseudo-concerned tone, “Hey, Karen, what’s going on with—” and before hearing anymore Karen cut her off with, “Sorry, I have a student waiting,” and rushed away.
Even Jill, her best friend at school, wouldn’t support her.
During a break, Karen went into Jill’s office and said, “I think people are talking about me behind my back,” and Jill said, “Really? I haven’t heard anything,” but Karen knew she was lying.
“Wait, don’t tell me you really think I have anything to do with this,” Karen said.
“No, of course I don’t,” Jill said. “It’s just… never mind.”
“It’s just what?”
“Nothing.”
“Tell me.”
“It’s nothing, it’s just…Well, you talk about Mark a lot, so I mean...”
“What?” Karen said. “What does it mean?”
“Nothing. It doesn’t mean anything.”
“Do you think I’m involved with Mark?”
“No, of course not.” Jill wasn’t making eye contact.
“Just because I talk about him, doesn’t mean I’m involved with him,” Karen said.
“I’m not saying you are,” Jill said. “But, I mean, I saw the way he was looking at you at the country club on Saturday.”
“That’s him. That’s not me.”
“I know. I know that.”
“And if it was true, if I was having an affair with him, why would I keep it a secret? Why wouldn’t I tell you?”
“Well, I guess if you didn’t want his wife to find out you wouldn’t—”
“I can’t believe this.” Karen hadn’t expected this from Jill of all people. She felt as if s
he’d been punched in the gut.
“I’m not saying you are.”
“But you think it,” Karen said. “You really think these things about me.”
“Of course I don’t think you’d actually… You’re misunderstanding me.”
“I thought we were friends.”
“We are friends.”
“Fuck you,” Karen said, leaving Jill’s office.
Karen was so upset and hurt by what Jill thought of her, what people thought of her, that she was hyperventilating and actually thought she might faint. To get a hold of herself, she went into the bathroom and splashed her face with cold water. It didn’t work and she left—still angry, still a mess. Her plan was to go on with her day, block out all of this bullshit the best she could, pretend it was a normal morning, because she knew if she accepted what was going on she was going to totally lose it.
Fortunately Karen’s job was all-consuming. Working with autistic kids, trying to figure out the best ways to reach each child, as if each child’s brain were a unique maze that needed its own solution, required intense concentration and focus, and she wanted that feeling of disappearing into a maze right now. It was truly a joy to work with such pure, unaffected souls, with children who needed her, and who had no interest in judging her. Her work, as difficult and frustrating as it was at times, was the perfect escape from the cruel, punishing world.
Her first student was William, an adorable, severely autistic, seven-year-old who had serious medical issues, including diabetes and partial blindness. The boy’s parents had four other children and weren’t giving him proper medical care, or enough emotional attention, which upset Karen but also made her time with him even more precious. With many of the kids she worked with, especially the ones who were most severely impaired, she had the ability to connect with them on an intimate level, to understand their feelings that they were unable to express. In her last session with William, Karen had made a lot of progress, and had been very close to getting him to say his first words. If she could get him to say, even basic words, it would have an enormous effect on his life, so she was eager to get to work with him.
