by Jason Starr
“I’m sorry I flipped out when I saw you here,” Karen said. “I’ve just been under an incredible amount of stress. You’re welcome to stay for dinner.”
“Can I help cook?”
“Thank you, I don’t think I’ll be cooking much. Just fish cakes and vegetables and the fish cakes are already made.”
“Then at least let me set the table, and I’ll do the dishes too.”
“It’s okay, I can do it,” Karen said. “Why don’t you go spend time with Elana? I’ll call you down when dinner’s ready.”
She smelled so good. He wanted to ask her what perfume she was wearing, but he knew he should probably keep his mouth shut.
“What perfume are you wearing?” he asked.
Shit, it had slipped out.
“Excuse me?” she asked.
“I mean I just noticed you smell good, and I think I’ve smelled it before. Maybe on Elana.”
“I’m not wearing any perfume,” Karen said.
“Oh,” Owen said. “Then maybe it’s just soap.”
Upstairs, Elana was waiting for him in her room, lying in bed, on her iPad, going, “Facebook is like a total clusterfuck. You can’t believe what people are saying about my mom. How was she? What’s going on?”
“She’s cool,” Owen said. “I talked to her and helped her, I think. She invited me to stay for dinner.”
“Really? That’s so awesome. I mean, my mom has been kind of strict about us, because you’re older and everything, but it’s awesome that she invited you to dinner.”
“Yeah, your mom’s amazing,” Owen said. “You’re lucky to have her.”
“Come here,” Elana said, putting down the iPad.
Owen didn’t want to get in bed with her, but he didn’t see how he was going to avoid it. For right now, Elana was the thing that was keeping him close to Karen, so he had to make sure not to mess this up. Eventually he’d have to tell Elana the truth, that he was in love with her mother, or, actually, it would make sense if Karen had that talk with her. She was her mom after all. She would know the best way to break the news to her daughter.
Owen was kissing Elana, imagining that it was Karen. Karen had great lips—thick, but not too thick—and he bet she was a great kisser.
“I’m so happy you’re here,” Elana said. “I almost didn’t call you.”
“Why not?” Owen asked, distracted, still thinking about Karen’s lips.
“’Cause the other night, I don’t know… I didn’t think you were into me anymore.”
“Sorry,” Owen said. “I was just in a bad mood. It had nothing to do with you.”
“Yeah,” Elana said. “That’s what I thought.”
They kissed some more and Owen could tell Elana was getting into it. He let her go down on him, which was pretty amazing actually because he imagined it was Karen doing it.
He almost fucked everything up, though, when he said, “Oh, shit, that feels so good, Kar…”
Elana stopped, went, “What did you just say?”
“I said careful,” Owen said.
“Oh,” she said.
“DINNER TIME!” Karen called from downstairs.
Owen and Elana were still in bed, cuddling. Oh, man, Owen loved Karen’s voice. He couldn’t wait till he heard her screaming out his name when they were doing the teacher-student fantasy. He bet she’d be better at it than Deb.
He and Elana went down to the kitchen. Her little brother was already at the table. This was so cool—a built-in family, waiting for him. When Kyle was here, it would be even cooler. All they needed was a dad—and now they had one.
“Let me,” Owen said, going over to Karen at the stove, smelling her. “Sit down, relax, I’ll serve.”
“It’s okay,” she said.
“No, I insist,” he said.
Karen sat and Owen brought over the fishcakes and broccoli and salad that she had prepared. Then he got apple juice for Matthew and seltzer for Karen and Elana and then finally he joined them. Karen seemed kind of out of it still so Owen took control of the conversation, asking Matthew what was going on at school and then talking about swimming. Although Matthew didn’t swim, he knew Kyle from school and wherever, and Elana knew Kyle too.
When Matthew said, “Mom, can I have ice cream now?” Owen cut in and said, “You have to finish your broccoli first or you can’t have dessert.” Owen liked this new tone in his voice, how fatherly he sounded, and he could tell Karen liked it too. She’d been alone, divorced for a while now, and she was probably sick of dating. She liked having a man in the house, somebody who could take charge and be a good role model for the kids.
“Okay,” Matthew said and stabbed a piece of broccoli with his fork and stuffed it into his mouth.
Owen saw Karen smile, just for a second, but he could tell inside she was happy.
“Where do you live, Owen?” Karen asked.
Owen, getting a flash of seeing all his stuff on the lawn in front of his mom’s house, wasn’t sure how to answer.
“What do you mean?”
“I know your mom, Linda, has told me where she lives, but I forget. Is it Katonah or Lewisboro?”
“Katonah,” Elana said.
Then, suddenly, Owen saw an opportunity.
“Actually I’m not living anywhere right now,” he said.
“What do you mean?” Karen asked, and Elana asked, “Yeah, what do you mean?”
“My mom and stepdad…Well, they asked me to move out.” Owen wasn’t sad, but he forced out a tear or two to make it look good.
“When did this happen?” Elana asked.
“Yesterday,” Owen said. “I came home and my stuff was on the lawn.”
“Your mother put your stuff on the lawn?” Karen asked.
“Not my mother, my stepfather, but my mother lets him do whatever he wants so I guess it’s the same thing. Raymond, my stepfather, he isn’t the nicest guy in the world. We got into a fight, and he hit me.”
“Hit you?” Karen asked.
“Yeah, he hits me all the time… He molested me one time too.”
“Oh my God,” Karen said.
“What’s molested?” Matthew asked.
“Never mind,” Karen said to Matthew.
“Oh my God, he really did that to you?” Elana asked Owen.
“It’s okay, I’m all right,” Owen said. “I’m just worried about my brother. He’s only eleven years old, and I’m afraid with me out of the house Raymond will need somebody else to pick on. I don’t want what happened to me to happen to him.”
“What’s molested?” Matthew asked again.
“Shut up,” Elana said to him.
“We need to call Child Protection Services,” Karen said to Owen. “I deal with this sort of thing all the time at work. I can help you and your brother.”
“Thank you,” Owen said. “I think Kyle’s okay for right now, but that’s probably a good idea.”
“If you’re not home now, where are you staying?” Karen asked.
“Some shitty motel off the Saw Mill,” Owen said.
“You didn’t tell me that,” Elana said.
“Sorry, I was embarrassed,” Owen said.
“Don’t you have any relatives you can stay with?” Karen asked.
“No, not really,” Owen said. “I have a couple of cousins, but they’re in Arizona and California.”
“Well, you’re not going back to the motel tonight,” Karen said. “You can stay in the guest room.”
“It’s okay,” Owen said. “You don’t have to do that.”
“I want to do it,” Karen said, “and we’ll help you figure out a longer term plan. Don’t worry, you’re not alone.”
Karen reached out and held Owen’s hand, just for a second, but she’d still held his hand, actually held it.
“You’re the kindest woman I’ve ever met,” he told her.
FOR KAREN, the day from hell was getting worse. It was starting to sink in that Deb might never turn up and that the horrible
rumors that people were spreading about her would continue to spread. It had been so awful at school after that detective came, treating her like a murder suspect. Teachers and even kids were cold and distant and she hadn’t gotten any support from the principal or vice principal. Then she came home to find the reporters still camped out in front of her house, shouting questions, and then Mark came over, trying to get her to confess. It was hard for Karen to believe that she’d once considered Mark to be her friend, maybe her best friend.
Karen’s relatives were supporting her, though she could tell they had their doubts too. Her mother had left a worried voicemail while Karen was at school and during her drive home Karen called her and explained that the whole situation was a crazy misunderstanding and that she wasn’t having an affair with Mark and had nothing to do with Deb’s disappearance. Her mother said she believed her and told her how it was “so horrible the way people talk,” but Karen picked up on a tone in her voice and knew she wanted to believe her daughter was telling the truth, but wasn’t quite convinced. She got a similar vibe when her sister and aunt called and in texts from a couple of friends. A few friends had left voicemails, making sure she was okay, but she felt no real support. But the worst betrayal by far had come from her ex-husband, Joe.
Despite the differences that had led to their divorce, Karen still considered Joe to be a friend. After the tension subsided about the custody and financial stuff, their relationship stabilized and while most of their conversations were about the kids, they were comfortable talking to each other and asking for help when they needed something. They’d lost their relationship, but they hadn’t lost their respect for each other. When Joe got laid off from his job last year as an ad exec at Smythe and O’Greeley, a top Madison Avenue ad agency, she’d helped him get through it, and now he had a better, higher paying job. When she had drama last year with her supervisor at work, Joe was there to talk to her and help her see the situation from a different perspective. They’d even gotten to the point where they could comfortably talk to each other about dating other people. When Joe went through a difficult break up with a girlfriend last year, Karen spoke to him a few times to counsel him and give him “the woman’s perspective”, and when Karen had drama with a guy, Joe was great with “the guy’s perspective”.
Today, while Karen was at work, Joe had texted her a couple of times to “check in” and make sure she was okay. Karen appreciated the contact from Joe, it made her feel like she had an ally when the whole world seemed to be ganging up on her, and she told him how awful the situation was and how betrayed she felt by people at work. Joe suggested they talk later so when she got home, after the ridiculous visit from Mark, she went into the den and called Joe, in need of a dose of sanity.
What she didn’t expect was Joe to ask her, “So is it true about you and Mark?”
“Excuse me?” she asked, hoping she’d misunderstood him.
“Did you and Mark…you know… have something going on?”
Karen was floored. Joe too?
“I can’t believe you’re asking me that,” Karen said. “How can you say that to me?”
“Calm down,” Joe said. “Relax.”
“Don’t tell me to relax.”
She hated when he told her to relax. It reminded her of the frustration she’d had during their marriage, when she’d felt she couldn’t express herself fully.
“Okay, then at least stop yelling.”
“Why shouldn’t I yell when you’re accusing me, like everyone else?”
“I’m not accusing you, I’m asking you, because it kind of makes sense.”
“Make sense? How does it make sense?”
“You and Mark have always been close, even during our marriage.”
Oh my God, he’s just like them, she thought.
“We were good friends, that’s it. And lately we haven’t been good friends, or even friends.”
“I’m not trying to get you defensive,” Joe said. “If you’d calm down you’d understand this. I don’t think it’s an unreasonable question I’m asking because it’s something I’ve wondered about for years.”
“Years?” Karen couldn’t believe this.
“Deb and I used to joke about it,” Joe said. “At parties, at get-togethers, when we were over at Mark and Deb’s or had them over at our place. Deb used to say that if she and I died you and Mark would probably wind up together, raising the kids, you know, that sort of thing. So all I’m saying is the idea that you and Mark had something going on now isn’t completely one hundred percent out of left field.”
“The answer to the question is no,” Karen said. “Nothing was ever going on with Mark and me. And I think it’s disgusting, absolutely disgusting, that you of all people would say such a thing to me. You think I’d have an affair with a married man, someone I’ve known for years, who our kids know, whose kids are friends with our kids? Is that really the type of person you think I am?”
“I was just asking a question,” Joe said, “and you answered it.”
“I have to go make dinner for the kids,” Karen said, wanting to get off the phone.
“I was thinking,” Joe said, “maybe I should drive up tonight and take the kids back to the city for a while.”
“Why?” Karen asked, though she knew what he was getting at. “What for?”
“It sounds chaotic up there now,” Joe said. “I’ll be up there in an hour and take them.”
“They might find Deb any second now,” Karen said. “The chaos’ll be over.”
“Still,” Joe said. “I think it’s for the best.”
“You don’t trust me, do you?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You don’t have to say it, I can hear it in your voice. You think I’m crazy, losing it.”
“No, I just want the kids to be safe.”
“Safe? Safe from who? What, you don’t think I’m competent now? Mr. Self Absorbed, Mr. Checking Out Of Our Marriage, Mr. Every Other Weekend.”
“I’m coming up there.”
“You come here, I’ll call the cops. You want drama? I’ll give you fucking drama, you bastard.”
“Karen, calm down.”
“Why, afraid I’m gonna snap? They’re staying here with me and that’s final!”
Then Karen heard a noise and she turned and saw Owen Harrison, Elana’s friend.
“I have to go now,” Karen said to Joe.
“Come on, Karen, don’t—”
“I said I’m hanging up.”
At first she was angry with Owen, maybe taking out her anger at Joe and the world on him. But then she felt bad for blasting him when he actually seemed to be the only person who seemed to believe she was innocent and understand she was actually a victim. She still thought there was something off about Owen, something she couldn’t quite identify. It was confusing for her because she was normally so good at understanding people; it was a big part of what she did for a living, reaching into other people’s minds. But while Owen was inappropriate with her and crossed boundaries—asking her what perfume she was wearing; what was up with that?—there was still an endearing innocence about him. Okay, he was socially awkward at times, but he was definitely non-threatening, harmless, and Elana obviously liked him, so Karen wanted to be supportive.
During dinner, Karen was out of it, ruminating about the day, especially the conversation with Joe—the betrayal from her ex, her children’s father, still stung the most—and she was glad that Owen seemed to enjoy holding court, taking charge. Then when he mentioned that he was living at a motel and had been molested by his stepfather, Karen was aware that he was overstepping boundaries again, but she felt he was being sincere and honest, and she couldn’t resist the urge to try to fix the situation. It sounded like he’d been through hell—something she could certainly identify with—and it partially explained the clinginess she’d felt from him. With his life at home so awful, it made sense that he was reaching out to another family for support. She was definit
ely going to contact Child Protection Services tomorrow and make sure his brother was okay and, while she knew that having Owen staying in the guest room would only be a temporary fix, that it wouldn’t be practical for him to stay for more than a couple of days, it still made her feel good to be proactive, to be doing something.
Owen offered to help her with the dishes—he was such a nice kid—but she insisted that he go upstairs and spend some time with Elana. Karen knew they were probably fooling around, but Elana was going on seventeen, and Karen had to let go of her rigidness on this. From now on, she’d be okay with a don’t-ask, don’t-tell policy about sex, and as long as she and Owen didn’t sleep in the same bed she’d be cool with it.
Karen was hoping, praying that some good news would arrive. If Deb would just return home unharmed, maybe things could be salvaged. It would take some work, but eventually she could forgive her friends, colleagues, and relatives for rushing to judgment about her. She knew that she and Joe could eventually get past it too; after all, they’d gotten through so much together, had so many ups and downs, they could survive this too. But in order for healing to take place there needed to be a break in the case and that didn’t seem to be happening. The reporters were still outside in full-force, and she was getting more texts and emails from friends and family, and all of the messages seemed to have an underlying, accusatory tone. She could only imagine what the guys she’d dated lately must think. Even Steven, Mr. Crabs, probably thought he’d dodged a bullet. She got an email from Richard Gross, the dentist she was supposed to go out with, cancelling their date. Big surprise there, eyes rolling. He, like everyone else, probably assumed that there had to be “some truth” to what he was hearing on the news.
At around eight o’clock she got a call on her home phone from a local “restricted” number. Hoping it was good news, maybe someone a neighbor or acquaintance calling to let her know that Deb was okay, that the nightmare was over, she picked up in the kitchen and said eagerly, “Yes?”
But it was a man, shouting, “Go to hell, slut!”
