by Jason Starr
After practicing the sounds he’d made last time, she tried to get him to say the word “ball.” He seemed eager and attentive today, and she sensed that he wanted to speak so badly, and he was trying as hard as he could to take the leap into language. But then an alarm went off somewhere outside the building, it sounded like a car alarm, and the noise upset William, maybe because he had been so locked in, and he kicked and flailed his arms and legs. Karen held him in her arms, trying to subdue him, but he was a big kid, weighed about one hundred pounds, and he broke free and swung one of his arms and slapped Karen hard in the face, over her mouth and part of her cheek. Her lower teeth tore into her gums, and she tasted blood.
Finally she was able to calm him down, but it took a while to get the bleeding to stop. As she pressed a wad of tissues over her mouth, she continued to act normal and playful around William because she didn’t want to upset him, make him feel he’d done anything wrong. Although he could barely see, so he didn’t know she was bleeding, she knew he was incredibly perceptive and knew when something was wrong, even when he didn’t have the physical ability to comprehend a situation. She was mainly concerned about William, but it was hard to completely distance herself from her own feelings. As she made fake smiley faces, and resumed trying to get him to speak, she was thinking, What next? After the weekend from hell, she’d woken up to find she was a possible suspect in the disappearance of a neighbor, and now a sweet, innocent child had hit her in the face. The onslaught of things going wrong in her life seemed relentless.
She saw a couple of other students after William, but it was hard to focus and get lost in her work. Then she went online on her phone, hoping there was news about Deb, a break in the case, but she was still missing. Worse, a couple of articles mentioned the fight Deb and Karen had at the country club, and there was even a video posted. Now Karen remembered seeing people with their phones out on Saturday during the scuffle with Deb—she’d blocked it out until now. With dread, she clicked PLAY and then watched a fifteen second-long video of herself, wrestling with Deb.
“Fuck me,” she said.
It was humiliating and surreal, like she was watching two crazy people on a daytime talk show, except one of those crazy people was her. She was overcome by embarrassment and shame. All she could think was, Everyone is seeing this. Her colleagues, her family, her friends, her neighbors, guys she’d dated, the parents of the kids she worked with. She knew how it must seem to people, taken out of context, and she was angry with herself for letting her guard down on Saturday and for letting Deb coax her into the ridiculous fight. But she had to make people understand that this wasn’t how it seemed, and this wasn’t who she was.
But panic set in when she realized how easily this could all blow up—she could be fired from her job, she could go to jail. She called her union rep and got emotional, and she explained what was going on and how terrified she was. The rep, Mary, calmed her down, and told her to go about her business for the rest of the day and just wait for the facts to come out.
“It’s just a video on the Internet and people talking,” Mary told her. “You haven’t been charged with any crime.”
Mary assured Karen that her job wasn’t in jeopardy. Karen knew this could change if the rumors continued to spread, but she understood that panicking wasn’t helping. She needed to remove herself from the situation, as much as she could anyway, and wait to see how things played out.
As noon approached, she was looking forward to having lunch alone in her office. She’d packed her usual lo-cal lunch—yogurt, an apple, and iced green tea in a thermos. She would eat, relax, and focus on the rest of the day at work. Then, when she got home later, she’d discover that the nightmare was over. Deb would be home, the reporters would be gone, and everything would be back to normal.
After eating, she did feel somewhat better, until she left her office to use the restroom and saw the slim dark-haired guy in a sport jacket approaching her in the hallway. The guy didn’t have to say a word or show a badge—his whole vibe screamed, Cop.
Sure enough, he said, “Karen Daily?” and she said, “Yes,” and then he showed a badge, said a few sentences that included “Detective Walsh” and “police” and “Can we talk?” A few teachers, including Stacey, the social studies teacher who’d been at the staff meeting earlier, and a few students, looked like fifth-graders, were eavesdropping, close enough to have overheard the entire exchange. Great, this was all Karen needed—more rumors going around school about her. Karen was mortified. It may have been the most humiliating moment of her life which, given what had happened to her over the past couple of days, was saying a lot.
“What’s this about?” Karen asked quietly, practically whispering.
“It’s about a neighbor of yours who’s missing,” Detective Walsh said.
Stacey and the kids were still listening in. Karen glared at Stacey until she got the hint and said to the kids, “Come on kids let’s get to class now,” and they walked away down the hallway, the kids looking back over their shoulders and whispering to one another.
“Do you have any idea how humiliated I feel right now?” Karen asked. She suddenly felt weak, dizzy, and her whole face was burning up as if there were an interrogation lamp shining on it.
“I’m sorry about that, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” Walsh said.
Yeah, right, like an arrogant cop really gave a shit whether he made her uncomfortable or not. She’d had it with people. She’d seriously had it.
“Is that your office?” Walsh asked.
She must’ve answered, “Yes.”
“We can either talk here or you can come down to the station with me, whichever you prefer.”
Imagining the further humiliation of being led out of the school into a squad car, she heard herself say, “Here’s fine, I’ll meet you back in a minute.”
She went to the teacher’s bathroom, into a stall, where she lost it, balling hysterically. After a few minutes she managed to calm down, mopping up her tears with such thick wads of toilet paper that she stopped up the toilet.
When she returned to her office Walsh was standing near her desk.
“Look, I have no idea where Deb is,” she said. “I have nothing to do with any of this. Nothing.”
“How did you know I was here about Deborah Berman?” he asked, trying to sound casual, but his accusing tone was obvious.
“Because there were fucking reporters in front of my house this morning, and there’s video online, and I’m sick and tired of this bullshit fucking up my life!”
She knew she was losing it, but she didn’t care. It felt too good to vent. Maybe, she thought, this was how William had felt when he’d lost control.
“I think you should sit down,” Walsh said.
“I don’t want to sit,” she said.
“Fine, but I’m going to have to ask you some questions, okay?”
“I really can’t take any more of this, I just fucking can’t,” she said, letting loose with her anger, not caring anymore. Then she realized she was acting the way she had when she’d fought with Deb, losing control, and this wasn’t a good idea in front of the detective. So in a much calmer, quieter voice she said, “I really don’t know where Deb is. I feel awful for her husband and her kids, and I hope to God she’s okay. But people think I’m involved now and it’s crazy, it’s just crazy. I’m a schoolteacher, for God’s sake. I have children who depend on me, who need me, and I have my own fucking problems. You have no idea what kind of problems I have, okay? You have no idea what my fucking life is like, what kind of shit I’ve been through lately. So then to have you come in here accusing me of something I have nothing to do with is ridiculous, it’s just fucking ridiculous!”
So much for calmness.
Walsh waited during Karen’s outburst. When she was through he took out a pad and pen and said, all cop-like, with no emotion, “Let’s start with Saturday. Tell me what happened at the country club.”
WHEN THE sc
hool bus let Riley off, she sprinted up Savage Lane, wanting to get home as fast as possible to hopefully find out that her mother was home and everything was back to normal. But her panic got worse when she saw that there were news trucks, a police car, and lots of reporters and some neighbors near her house.
Okay, she told herself, this doesn’t mean something bad has happened. Maybe everybody’s here because they found her. This gave her some hope, but not much.
She went over to one of the people she knew: Rachel Fuller’s mom. Rachel was a, like, seven-year-old girl who lived in a house down the road.
“Did they find her?” Riley asked. “Did they find my mom?”
Rachel’s mom shook her head, looking the way people at funerals looked, and said, “Not yet, sweetie.”
“Oh no, oh my God, oh my God,” Riley said and then everything got confused, like somebody had whacked her over the head, and then it seemed like a second later she was in the house, in the kitchen, saying to her dad, “Where is she? How come they haven’t found her yet?”
Her father was with some old guy, probably another cop. They were sitting at the table.
“Everything’s going to be okay,” her dad said.
“Something bad happened.” Riley realized she was shaking. “Oh my God, I know something bad happened. She’s dead. I know she’s dead.”
“She’s going to be fine,” her dad said, getting up and hugging her.
But she didn’t want to be hugged—not by him. She’d been angry all day, hating him, knowing he had something to with this, that he wasn’t telling her something. She stood with her arms at her sides, thinking about what people had been talking about at school, and on the bus, about how her mom disappearing might have something to do with Karen Daily, and that Karen and Riley’s dad had been having an affair.
“It’s all because of you,” Riley said.
“What?” Her dad stopped hugging and took a couple of steps away. He was looking over at the older guy, as if he were embarrassed.
“What they’re saying about you and Karen,” Riley said.
“What who are saying?” her dad asked.
“Everybody! Kids at school, on the school bus. It’s true, isn’t it? Karen killed her, and you know she killed her.”
“Okay, you have to calm down right now.” He was looking at the man again, but now he seemed more terrified than embarrassed.
“It’s true, it’s true, I know it’s true,” Riley said.
Her dad started to say something, but the man, standing now too, said to Riley, “What makes you think it’s true? I’m Detective Piretti, by the way.”
“Because they’re always together,” Riley said to Piretti. “It’s been like that since she got divorced. It’s so obvious. It was obvious to me, it was obvious to Mom, it was obvious to everybody.”
“We’re just friends, that’s all we are,” he said.
“I looked at your texts on your phone one time,” Riley said. “I saw a bunch to her.”
“That’s because we’re friends.”
“Friends don’t text that much, especially grownups who are friends. That’s why Mom wanted a divorce, because she knew what was going on too, she wasn’t a fucking idiot.”
“Riley, that’s enough,” her dad said, raising his voice.
But Riley kept going, saying, “It’s true. That’s why she’d been acting so weird lately.”
“How was she acting weird?” Piretti asked.
“She’s very upset, she doesn’t know what she’s saying,” her dad said to Piretti.
“She was too acting weird,” Riley said. “She was distracted all the time, and she was drinking like crazy. Sometimes I’d come home from school and smell the alcohol on her breath. Saturday morning, in the car on the way home from dance class, she was acting really weird.”
“That’s enough Riley,” her dad said.
“Let her talk,” Piretti said. Then to Riley he said, “Did you hear your mother specifically talk about any threat from Karen?”
“No,” Riley said.
“That’s because there weren’t any threats,” her dad said.
“Why are you defending her?” Riley said. “I mean if she’s just your friend, and there’s nothing else going on with you two, then why are you afraid to admit that she’s crazy and did something to Mom?”
“First of all, Mom’s coming home,” her dad said. “Second of all, I know Karen, and I know she’s a good person, she’s not crazy. She wouldn’t hurt anybody and she definitely wouldn’t hurt Mom.”
“Were you having sex with her?” Riley asked.
“Excuse me,” Mark said.
Then Justin came into the kitchen, holding an Xbox joystick, and asked, “Is Mom home yet?”
“Is that why Mom wanted a divorce?” Riley said to her dad. “Because you were going to leave her for Karen?”
Now Casey came into the kitchen and was barking.
“Shut up,” Mark said to her, and maybe to the dog too.
“If Mom and Dad are getting a divorce that means Mom’s home, right?” Justin asked.
“No, Mommy’s never coming home,” Riley said to Justin. “Because dad’s girlfriend killed her.”
Riley saw her dad’s arm move, like he was about to hit her, but he stopped when Piretti said, “Okay, okay, this isn’t very productive right now. What I’d like to do is talk to your dad alone right now, and maybe I’ll talk to you kids another time, if necessary. But just to be clear we are looking for your mother, and we’re still hoping to find her very soon.”
“Look for her in heaven,” Riley said as she marched out and went upstairs.
In her room, she let the door slam as she collapsed on to her bed and lay face down crying hysterically into her pillow. Her mother was gone, forever, and her father was a liar. She’d never felt so alone. Today at school had been so awful, with all the rumors going around, and tomorrow would be worse. Tomorrow everybody would know. She’d be the girl whose dad’s girlfriend killed her mother. Already she wasn’t popular and she didn’t have any boyfriends. Now she wouldn’t have a mother or a boyfriend and she’d be a joke, a freak.
Her pillow was soaked. She was afraid that her face would break out from the tears so she went out to the bathroom and heard explosions coming from Justin’s room. She went in and saw him playing Xbox.
“What is wrong with you? How can you play games when Mom’s missing?”
She grabbed the joystick from him, and then snatched the other one from near the TV.
“Stop,” Justin whined.
She hated his whine; it was so annoying and always cut through her, like fingernails on a blackboard.
“Don’t you have a heart?” she screamed at him.
“Give ’em back,” he shouted, “give ’em back!”
He tried to grab them from her but she took them into the bathroom with her, shoved him out of the way, and locked the door.
“Dad, Dad!” Justin said, running out of the room, then downstairs.
Riley hid the joysticks under towels on the top shelf of the closet, and then splashed her face with cold water. She felt empty inside, as if a giant vacuum had sucked all of the blood and bones and flesh out of her. She was never going to see her mother again, never hear her voice, never hug her, never smell her. What did her mother smell like? She already couldn’t remember. She couldn’t even remember the last time she’d told her mother she loved her. It was a fucking nightmare, worse than a nightmare because she wasn’t going to wake up. It was going to go on and on forever—well, until she died. That was the only thing that would make this better, make the pain go away—death.
“Come back, Mom,” she said through the cold water. “Come back, Mom. Please come back, please come back.”
She continued to splash her face until her skin was numb. Then she toweled dry and left the bathroom.
Justin was there, crying, saying, “Where are they? Where did you put them?”
She went downstairs, hoping Detect
ive Piretti was still here, and there was news, but she went into the living room and saw her dad on the couch, watching some stocks channel on TV.
“What the fuck?” she said. “Justin’s playing video games and you’re watching the stocks channel? Don’t you even care that Mom’s gone?”
Looking at the TV, her dad said, “You have no idea how angry I am at you right now.”
“Me? What did I do?” Riley asked. She really was clueless.
“Your behavior before was horrible.”
“I just told the detective the truth.”
“You have no idea what the truth is and isn’t. You’re sixteen years old, for God’s sake. You don’t know shit about anything.”
“Well, I know if you cared about Mom you wouldn’t be sitting here watching TV.”
“I’m trying to hold it together,” he said. “Do you want me to cry? Do you want me to yell? Do you think that’ll accomplish anything?”
“You can look for her,” Riley said. “You can get in the car, we could get in the car, and we can drive around, be proactive.”
“The police are looking for her,” he said. “They know how to look better than we do, so we have to let them do their job. I called all of Mom’s friends, they haven’t heard anything. Hopefully Mom’ll contact us soon, let us know she’s okay. I’ve done everything I can.”
“You didn’t do everything.”
Her dad was still staring at the TV. He waited, the way he always did when he was trying not to get angry, then he said, “What do you mean?”
“You can call your girlfriend,” Riley said, “ask her where Mom is.”
On “is” he lost it and flung the remote at the TV, smashing the screen, and screamed, “Shut the fuck up!”
Riley had never heard her dad scream so loud at her, or his face get so red. She seriously thought he was going to have a stroke. She didn’t care, though. He was so mean, such an asshole.
