A Sin Such as This

by Ellen Hopkins

  Working weekends. Not a bad thing to do. I’ll investigate the page tomorrow and see about other social networking sites that might be a good fit for FFF as well. It’s been a while since I’ve plugged into them, so I’m sure there’s something new.

  Several junk e-mails. Delete. Delete. Delete. And a “Welcome to the New Year” e-mail from Eli’s high school. Oh, look. Enrollment is up this year, to 252. Well, at least he’ll get personalized attention.

  Next I check texts and am surprised to find one from Melody. And more surprised to read it. Have you seen Graham?

  I start to text her back. Instead, I call and hope she chooses to answer.

  She does. “Hello?” Her voice is sour.

  “Um, hi. Wondering about your message. Why would you think I’d have seen Graham?”

  “I don’t know. Because I haven’t?”

  “Mel, start to finish, I’ve spent every minute of the weekend with Cavin. I’m happy to put him on to confirm that for you if you don’t believe me.”

  She sighs and I know she’s softened. “No, that’s okay. Sorry.”

  “When did you last see him?”

  “Right after I got back from San Francisco on Friday. As soon as he knew I was here to take care of the girls, he was gone.”

  “He said nothing before he left?”

  “No. I went to pee and that’s how long it took for him to vanish.”

  “You didn’t really think he’d come up here to be with me, did you? Doesn’t he have patients he has to see tomorrow?”

  “I assume so, but he hasn’t discussed work nor extracurricular activities with me.”

  “Mel, I’m sorry things are falling apart there, but I am not to blame. What I told you about Graham and me is completely true. I would never lie to you.”

  “That’s what I’ve heard.”

  I struggle to think of a new approach.

  But Mel beats me to it. “Remember when you offered to cover the private investigator’s retainer? Are you still willing to do that?”

  So she called him.

  “Of course. How much does he want?”

  “Fifteen hundred.”

  “No problem. I’ll send you a check.”

  “Not to me. Please send it directly to him so he can get started right away.”

  “I’ll put it in the mail first thing.”

  It will be worth every penny to eliminate myself from her suspect list. Okay, end of that conversation. Let’s try a whole new direction. “Hey, Mel. Are you still planning on hiking Half Dome for your birthday?”

  “Not this year. A big rock slide took out half the face. So, no Yosemite for me.”

  Perfect.

  “Listen. I’m working on a huge fund-raiser. The event happens to be the day before your birthday, at one of the Apple Hill wineries. Great food. Good wine. Dancing. I’d love for you to come. In fact, why don’t you plan to spend the weekend? We’ll have an intimate celebration the day after the big event. Bring your family and let’s do it right.”

  She is quiet for several long seconds. “Thanks for the invitation. I’ll think about it.”

  I shouldn’t have to convince her, but if it helps smooth things over . . . “Please. I really want you there. And it’s your fortieth. It should be special.”

  “Tara, I really will think about it.”

  “Let me know soon. I’d like to make plans.”

  I hang up, and since my phone is still in my hand, I take a minute to call Kayla, who also picks up right away. “Hi, Aunt Tara.”

  “Just checking in. How’d your orientation week go?”

  “Awesome! I’ve got a cool roomie, and my teachers are great . . .” Her ten-minute monologue makes me hopeful that she’ll take school seriously. As mood swings go, she’s definitely up. At least, until she says, “Of course, I miss you and Uncle Cavin and . . .” And now she’s sniveling.

  “Hey. Let’s go back to awesome, okay? Eli starts school tomorrow, and as near as I can tell, he’s got like thirty classmates, so not a whole lot of competition there. Pretty sure you’re safe.”

  Minus Planet Sophia.

  But her obvious emotional flip within such a short time makes me ask, “Are you solid? I mean, are you conscientiously taking your meds?”

  “Mostly. Sometimes I forget when I’m busy or whatever. Then I usually catch up later.”

  “Kayla, I’m not a doctor, but I happen to be married to one, and your father is one as well. Talk to him or to Cavin. There’s a reason why prescription labels tell you how much medication to take, and when. I don’t think you can ‘catch up later.’ ”

  “Okay. I’ll try to do better.”

  “Don’t try. Just do.”

  “Gotcha.”

  I believe I’ve been dismissed. Except, “Listen. I’ve got a big fund-raiser the weekend of your mom’s birthday. I’m trying to convince her to come up to the lake. You’re more than welcome to join us. In fact, I think you should.”

  “Will Eli be there?”

  “He’s helping me with it, so he’d better not miss it.”

  “I’d love to come. But what about transportation?”

  “We’ll figure that out as we get closer. Meanwhile, work hard and succeed. Success is a woman’s most dangerous weapon in a world run mostly by men. Autonomy. That’s what you’re after. Once you’ve achieved that, you’ll be irresistible.”

  “If you say so.”

  “I do. Oh, hey. You haven’t heard from your dad, have you? Your mom hasn’t seen him in a couple of days, and she’s worried.”

  She takes two beats. “Worried that he’s spending the weekend with you?”

  Goddamn it, Eli. Now I have to go there. “That was her concern, yes, but I have no idea why. She seems to have forgotten I have a husband who I love very much, and zero desire for anyone on the side, especially not your father. That’s not how I operate.”

  “That’s what I’ve heard.”

  Déjà vu.

  “I did talk to Dad, actually. He called to check up on me, see how I like school so far.”

  Wow. I guess I didn’t realize he was concerned about her. Mel has always claimed he’s indifferent. “Really. So, where has he been?”

  “His band had a gig in Napa. I’m surprised Mom didn’t know about it. Those two should try communication.”

  “I agree.”

  They should indeed.

  As long as you’re not the main topic of conversation.

  I sign off with Kayla, and as I disconnect, an idea strikes. We need a band for the fund-raiser, and Graham happens to drum for one. I text him. Call when you get this, please. It’s important.

  thirty-four

  W ITH JUST A COUPLE of weeks until the Fresh for Families Fall Fun-raiser, I’ve got things pretty well set. The video is in the final editing stage, and I’m pleased with the footage. Evergreen Productions has been easy to work with and totally professional, completing every step of the process on time. I’d use them again in a heartbeat.

  Jason and I chose three farms and an orchard for the tour. Narrowing down the list was difficult, but we relied on both scenic quality and proximity to each other, not to mention the winery. We’ve hired a couple of mini-coach buses to accommodate the sixty-eight people who’ve committed to take the tour. We expect another seventy-five to attend the evening’s activities, which will include screenings of the video, a silent auction, sensational food, and music.

  Providing said music will be Graham’s band, Underground Parking. I was a little surprised when he called me back. I figured I’d have to track him down, but I guess he thought he owed me an explanation about what he told Mel. He did, of course, and we got to it eventually. First, however, I mentioned the October event.

  “We’re always looking for gigs, but don’t you want to hear us play first? So happens we’ll be performing in Truckee over Labor Day weekend.”

  Cavin and I made plans to go have a listen that Friday night. Unfortunately, he was called in for an eme
rgency surgery last minute, so I drove over to Truckee by myself. The band was playing at a local pub, which was crowded due to the holiday, but Graham had managed to reserve a small table right next to the stage. I allowed myself a single glass of wine and enjoyed the music immensely.

  As I watched Graham wield his drumsticks, I couldn’t help but be impressed, and it hit me that after twenty years I’d finally accepted his invitation to listen to him play. Those two decades brought many changes to me, but his life has remained very much the same, at least until now.

  When the band took a break, Graham and I wandered outside, where he shocked me by lighting a cigarette. Marlboro, not Newport.

  “Since when do you smoke?” I asked.

  “I’ve carried the habit for years, though I usually only indulge it when I’m pretending to be a rock star.”

  “You realize it’s bad for your health, doctor?”

  “Yeah. What I didn’t realize was that you cared.”

  I was glad the alley behind the bar was gently lit so he couldn’t see the way my face flared. I shrugged. “It’s your life, but I’d rather you didn’t widow my sister unless you’ve got your will in order.”

  He inhaled deeply, exhaled away from me. “No worries there. If I die, Melody will be well provided for. Probably even better than with me still kicking, but please don’t tell her that.”

  “I think you’re safe. She’s not the homicidal maniac type.”

  He took another long, slow drag. “I hope you’re right.”

  I laughed, but then it struck me that he might not have been kidding. “Look, Graham, I realize, as you recently said, that we’ve spent a good number of years mutually distrusting each other. But I’d appreciate any insight you can offer. What’s going on with Mel?”

  “You tell me. She’s been pulling away for a while now. She’s distant. Cold. Secretive, even.”

  “Huh.”

  “What?” He exhales a slow stream of nicotine.

  “That’s what she’s been saying about you.”

  “Me? Secretive?”

  “Well, yeah. That you spend weekends away. Took off for a week in Las Vegas a few months ago. Stuff like that.”

  “Tara, that week in Vegas was a conference. She knew all about it. I even asked if she wanted to come along, though I wouldn’t have had a lot of time to spend with her. And as for weekends away, they’re all about the music. About the worst thing I do is feed a mediocre nicotine habit and chase it with alcohol.”

  “No women on the side?”

  “Would you believe me if I said no?”

  The strange thing was, I might have believed him, except he didn’t actually say no. Still, I wasn’t quite finished.

  “It doesn’t matter what I think, does it? Mel’s positive you’re sleeping around, and now she thinks you’re sleeping with me. Why did you tell her about that night you and I were together? It was such a long time ago.”

  He finished his cigarette before answering, stubbed it out on the cement with his foot. “I don’t know. After she got back from Idaho, she was just such a bitch. All she wanted to do was fight, and she kept holding you up as this shining example of fidelity. And then, when she came home after Ricky Martin, she went on the offensive over that stupid text message. I guess I was a little drunk and desperate to hurt her, and . . . God, I’m sorry, Tara. She was so smug and cocksure. I wanted her to question everything she clings so tightly to. Including you.”

  His explanation was weak but sincere. I told him I forgave him, though I still don’t trust him, and realize winning back my sister’s trust will take prolonged persuasion. So I was a little surprised when she called to let me know she would spend her birthday weekend at the lake, and her husband would, too. The plan is for her to come over alone on Friday so she and I can enjoy a quiet night together before Graham brings the girls up the following day.

  Kayla will be here on Saturday as well, shuttled by Charlie and Cassandra, who I talked into bringing her checkbook. She agreed as long as Taylor could come, too. She doesn’t want to leave her son home alone, and I don’t blame her. What that means is a houseful of people, and what that means is Mel and Graham will share one guestroom, Charlie and Cassandra the other. The younger girls will camp out on the floor of the game room, and no doubt spend all their time giggling about the older teenage boys, one of whom (and hopefully only one) will be sleeping with their sister.

  It’s going to be a crazy weekend, so I’m making sure everything is in control now, or at least as much in control as possible. Cavin isn’t very much help, but Eli has been more supportive than I would’ve thought possible. Working around his school responsibilities, he helped decide the menu and is coordinating with the caterer. And, under Jason’s direction, he’s spent hours facilitating the silent auction donations, which has saved me much time and energy. Not only that but he will be shepherding one of the buses touring the farms.

  Eli, the man.

  That’s official as of today, his eighteenth birthday, though I can’t say the legal designation has changed much of anything. He still looks the same. The unusual helpfulness is the product of something else. Don’t ask me what.

  Tonight he asked to go out to his favorite Thai restaurant on the south shore. He has no idea that his birthday present is a round-trip ticket to Sydney, plus a bed-and-breakfast stay, to be used postgraduation. Cavin was supposed to pick up the vouchers yesterday, but he didn’t mention having done so last night. But since I’ve got a follow-up appointment with Dr. Stanley, I purposely arrive early so I can stop by Cavin’s office to see.

  Cavin’s receptionist looks up when I enter. “Oh. How are you?” As usual, her tepid voice and casual demeanor irritate me immensely.

  “I’m doing well, Rebecca, thanks. Is Cavin around?”

  “He’s with a patient but shouldn’t be much longer.”

  “I’ll wait. I need to talk to him.”

  It’s ten minutes, with a pair of Sports Illustrated magazines and a four-month-old copy of Time, before I hear noise in the hallway, indicating Cavin has finished with his patient. My face is still burrowed in the Time when a somehow familiar voice asks Rebecca for an appointment in a week.

  I drop the magazine and confirm it’s Sophia, dressed in thigh-high shorts and a tight, boob-deep tank top.

  Her back is still to me when I ask, over her shoulder, “What are you doing here?”

  When she turns and sees who’s asking, she smiles. And behind her, Rebecca offers a smarmy grin, too. I’ll have a word with her later.

  “I seem to have injured my rotator cuff,” Sophia answers reasonably. “I don’t even have a GP here, so I figured I’d go to the only doctor I know, who just happens to be a rotator cuff expert. Lucky me, huh?”

  “Quite the coincidence. I’m surprised you got in to see him so quickly.”

  “We had a cancellation,” Rebecca scrambles to say. “And I remembered she and Dr. Lattimore were, uh . . .”

  “Friends,” supplies Sophia.

  Interesting synonym for “fuck buddies,” although they both might argue that’s not what they were. But since I can’t stand thinking about how close they used to be, it’s how I have to look at their past relationship.

  It is past, isn’t it?

  Take the high road. Take the high road. Tough, when what I really want to do is stomp Sophia into the tile. “If you ladies will excuse me, I’ve got important business to discuss with my husband. I hope your shoulder improves.”

  I find Cavin in his office and my fangs must be showing because his face loses most of its color. “Uh . . . Guess you saw Sophia, huh?”

  I have to work very hard to keep my voice steady. “I did. It was an unpleasant surprise. You might have mentioned she had an appointment with you.”

  “Tara, other than surgeries, I rarely know ahead of time what patients I’m seeing on any given day. I had no idea she’d be here until I saw her name on the chart hanging outside the exam room door.”

  “I�
�m sure you understand how uncomfortable it makes me, and I heard her ask for a follow-up appointment.”

  “Yes. Her shoulder is so swollen I can’t even order an MRI to see what the problem is. I told her to alternate heat and ice for a week and come back.”

  “Standard operating procedure.”

  “Yep, which is why I don’t think I just violated doctor/patient privilege by sharing that information.”

  “Well, I’m sure you know I’d rather there was no Cavin/Sophia privilege to violate. Any chance you’d consider referring her elsewhere?”

  “If it turns out it’s more than a muscle pull, of course. Treating her feels kind of icky anyway.”

  “Icky? Is that an official medical idiom?”

  He nods sagely. “Preferred terminology for conditions like ingrown toenails, pink eye, and exes.”

  I can’t help but laugh, despite the fact that I hate the way this is going. I’d prefer to stay angry right now. “Anyway, I didn’t drop in on the off chance I’d catch you with an old girlfriend. I was wondering if you had the chance to stop by the travel agent’s, or if you need me to do it on my way home.”

  “We don’t have to give him the actual vouchers tonight, you know. We could just tell him about the trip.”

  That is so not my style. I pout displeasure. “I want it to be a nice surprise, so they need to come gift wrapped. I don’t mind stopping. I just wish you would’ve—”

  “I didn’t say I don’t have them.”

  Now I notice the idiotic grin on his face. “You are evil. Okay, then, I’d better run or I’ll be late for my appointment.”

  “I’ve got a ton of paperwork to finish up before I leave, so I’ll meet you at the restaurant, if that’s okay.”

  “You going to gift wrap the vouchers?”

  “I’ll leave that to you. They’re in my car. You know where I park, right?”

  “I do.”

  I make it my business to know everything about my husband.

  Everything?

  This interior dialogue isn’t totally new, but the dueling voice has become louder, it seems. I fret about that on the way to Dr. Stanley’s, where his receptionist informs me, “The doctor was called out of town on a family emergency. You’ll see Dr. Heinlen today. He’s familiar with your history.”