Lovely Wild

by Megan Hart

  FIVE

  “MARI? MARI CALDER, right? Ethan’s mom.”

  Mari turns with a half smile she was taught long ago was considered polite. “Yes?”

  The woman in front of her looks as though she stepped out of one of the magazines Mari reads every month but rarely enjoys. Perfect hair, perfect outfit. Perfect smile that makes Mari cover her own mouth with her hand in reaction, though her teeth are no longer gray and broken and jagged.

  “I’m Lorna. Davis?” The woman pauses. “Bev’s mom.”

  Bev. Beverly. Beverly Davis... Mari vaguely recalls a girl with curly red hair and a set of sprouting buckteeth. She is in Ethan’s class.

  “Oh. Yes. Bev.” Mari nods, wondering how it is that Lorna Davis knows who she is.

  “Bev told me Ethan had an accident. Is he okay?”

  “He’ll be fine.”

  “Good. Kids,” Lorna says with a laugh and shake of her head. “It’s amazing any of us survive childhood, am I right?”

  Mari has mastered the social smile, but laughing at something she doesn’t find funny is a skill that still escapes her. “Children are capable of surviving a lot.”

  It wasn’t quite the right answer. She sees that in Lorna’s blink, her raised brow. The woman recovers quickly.

  “Right. Yes. And thank goodness it was just a cut, not something worse, am I right?”

  “You’re right,” Mari says.

  Lorna nods. They stare at each other there in the bandage aisle of the pharmacy. Mari has a package of gauze pads and antiseptic wipes in her hand. Lorna’s small basket contains mascara, feminine deodorant spray, skin lotion, a beauty magazine.

  “You know, you should think about coming to one of our Mommy’s Day Out meetings,” Lorna says suddenly.

  It’s Mari’s turn to blink. “Umm...”

  “You don’t work, am I right?”

  “I take care of my kids,” Mari says.

  Lorna laughs. “Oh, yeah, which is a full-time job, I know that. I feel you. I just started back to work last year, part-time. Gets me out of the house, but leaves plenty of ‘me’ time.”

  There’s a silence that goes on too long, until Mari says, “What’s Mommy’s Day Out?”

  Lorna’s eyes gleam. “Oh, we get together once a month at someplace really delish for lunch. Then sometimes a spa treatment, manicure, something like that. We have a great place we go to that does this amazing chi rejuvenation or a sugar scrub or hot stone massage, really everything they do there is fantastic. It’s a chance for us to get together away from the husbands and kids, you know what I mean? If I didn’t have my ‘Mommy’s’ days, I’d lose my mind.”

  Mari shudders involuntarily at the thought of suffering a massage, of being touched so intimately by a stranger. “I like spending time with my kids.”

  “Oh...of course. Me, too. I love my kids. Of course.” Lorna puts a friendly hand on Mari’s arm. “Just, you know, they can drive you crazy. You know what I mean?”

  The touch makes Mari’s skin crawl, but she doesn’t back away. Mari puts on that same polite half smile she’s practiced for so many years. She will never be a social hugger, but she’s learned to tolerate a lot.

  “Of course. Well, I’ll think about it.” Mari holds up her packages. “I should get home.”

  “Oh, right.” Lorna pauses, expectant.

  Mari has no idea what she’s waiting for and the silence stretches on until she nods and smiles and ducks away from Lorna, who stares after her.

  In the car, she thinks about what she will say if Lorna actually does invite her to a Mommy’s Day Out. It might be nice, she tells herself as she lines up with the other mothers in the school parking lot, each car inching forward slowly, though the kids haven’t been dismissed yet. To do something with other women. Have some...friends.

  Except it wouldn’t be nice. It would be strange and awkward. For them, not so much for her. Mari gets along with most anyone. It’s other people who usually don’t know how to react to her.

  “You’re too honest,” Ryan told her once, long ago, in the very beginning when things between them were fresh and new and still strange. He’d tangled his fingers in a strand of her dark hair, pulling it along his much lighter skin to show the contrast between them.

  “You’d like me to lie?”

  “I don’t think you know how to lie,” had been his answer, and he’d kissed her.

  It isn’t that she doesn’t know how. It’s that she doesn’t see the point. Lies are secrets, and there’s no use for them, either.

  “Hey, honey,” she says when Ethan at last limps to the car and slides into the backseat. “How was school?”

  “It was okay.” He shrugs, clicking his seat belt. “Can we get cheesesteaks from Pat’s for dinner?”

  Pat’s, King of Steaks, isn’t on the way home. In traffic, it will take them an hour or so to get there and back. Still, Mari looks at her son’s hopeful face and doesn’t have the heart to say no. His grin and shout of laughter when she nods is enough to make her laugh, too.

  Small things, she thinks as she pulls away from the school. That’s what matters. Small but beautiful things.

  SIX

  THE NUMBERS DIDN’T add up. Ryan had figured them four or five times, and every time, no matter how he worked them, they still turned red. He’d gone online to check balances and shift some money, but there was only so often he could do that. The checks coming in were too small, and eventually might stop coming at all. He’d have to do something, and soon.

  He could tap into the money his dad had left Mari. The funds had been meant for her to go to college, if she could, or at least to live on her own in case she wasn’t able to support herself. She hadn’t done either of those things. She’d married Ryan as soon as she’d turned eighteen, and he’d taken care of her ever since. Ryan checked the balance in the account now¸ as always with a somewhat sour taste in the back of his throat at the amount that had accumulated.

  It wouldn’t be hard to get her to agree to use it. He’d pulled from it before. The down payment on this house, for example. And he hadn’t felt bad about that, because providing Mari with a home of her own had been exactly what his father had meant the money to do. And once, they’d taken the kids to Disney World, a trip that in Ryan’s opinion had been six grand tossed away. Ryan didn’t like sweating and dealing with hordes of sticky, screaming kids, so the trip had been something of a nightmare for him. Mari and the kids had loved it, though. That was something, and giving her that experience, something she’d been lacking in her childhood, had been a perfect use of the money, too.

  Even after dipping into the account twice for two big expenses, there was still plenty left. There’d been donations, fund-raisers and grants in addition to what Dad himself had set aside. Dad hadn’t known, of course, that Ryan would be able to provide her with anything Mari ever wanted or needed. He’d wanted to make sure Mari would never have to worry about money because he knew how little the concept of it meant to her. Some people who grew up poor became misers, others spendthrifts. Mari simply didn’t understand money. She just saw it as numbers.

  It was Ryan who’d suggested the Disney trip. Who’d bought her the fancy iPhone that, as far as he knew, she barely used. Ryan wanted HD cable television with all the premium channels, the fastest internet. The fancy car that came with the fancy payment, too. All numbers, when you broke it down.

  And now, the numbers didn’t add up.

  Technically, her account was separate from the one they kept jointly, but of course, Ryan knew Mari’s passwords and PINs. Just like he knew she never checked the balances. He looked again at the balance in Mari’s account. The numbers stared at him smugly. He only needed a thousand or so to cover the credit card bill for this month.

  He should ask her, first. It was her money. But he knew she’d just give him one of those quizzical looks and a smile. She’d never deny him. He’d just do it and tell her a little later. Or better yet, he’d just replace the money when h
e started getting his full paychecks again. She’d never know. It wouldn’t matter. It wasn’t as if they were going bankrupt or anything.

  A quick tap-tap of the keys and it was done. A thousand dollars shifted from Mari’s account to the joint one. It nicely covered the upcoming bills, with a little left over in case he needed to hit the ATM for some cash. It all worked out just fine.

  Ryan had just closed the browser when his wife came in. He swiveled in his office chair to find her holding up two glasses of red wine. She smiled as she closed his door.

  She kissed him before she gave him the wine. She smelled good. She tasted good. Rich and earthy, like wine but so much better. She settled herself on his lap, straddling him, careful not to spill.

  “Hey,” she said.

  “Hey.” Ryan took a glass and sipped it. “That’s good.”

  “I read about it in that magazine you subscribed to. It got a great rating. I saw it at the liquor store and figured I’d pick up a bottle.”

  The wine cost, by his best guess, about forty bucks a bottle. Ryan winced. “It’s really good. Thanks.”

  “You like it?” She sipped and swallowed. “I do.”

  He did like it; that was the problem. Probably more because he knew the price tag. Behind him, the computer monitor cast an accusatory glow around them. Ryan ignored it.

  “I like it a lot.” He inched her closer. “Where are the kids?”

  “Ethan’s asleep. Kendra’s video chatting with someone.”

  “Who?”

  Mari shrugged. “Different person every time I go into her room.”

  “Boy or girl?”

  She gave him that look. That tender, amused look. “Both?”

  Ryan frowned. “Not that Logan kid. The one with the pierced lip?”

  “Honey, I don’t know. Anyway, what difference does it make? She can’t get pregnant from a video chat, thank goodness. She’s going to talk to boys, Ryan. It’s part of being a pretty fifteen-year-old girl. If she didn’t have boys wanting to talk to her, you’d worry about that.”

  He didn’t want to admit that was true. “I don’t like that kid.”

  “Because he has long hair and paints his fingernails?” Mari laughed. “You’re such a prepper.”

  She meant preppy, but he didn’t correct her. “She should be in bed. It’s almost eleven. Doesn’t she have to get up for school tomorrow?”

  “Yes. But she knows that it’s on her if she’s tired in the morning. She’s not a dummy. Besides, they have three half days this week, and then they’re done for the summer. You know they won’t be doing anything in class, anyway. And don’t you have to get up early for work tomorrow? Isn’t it your early day?”

  Twice a month for the past ten years, Ryan had been volunteering his time at the Sexual Abuse Resource Center, offering free counseling. He went in two hours before work to see patients. But with the investigation going on about Annette Somers, he’d thought it would be best to step down from that volunteer position.

  He hadn’t told Mari and now faced with the chance, found himself unable to.

  “Yeah. I guess so.”

  “Don’t hit the snooze button three times,” she warned him. “I might have to poke you. Hard.”

  Ryan put his glass on the edge of the desk and used both hands to anchor her on his lap. He tipped his face to look up at her. “Poking permission granted.”

  His wife sipped more wine and set down her glass, too. “I can’t believe it’s almost summer. I’m not sure I’m ready for it. I still haven’t figured out about camp. I’d like them both to go at the same time, but the one Ethan likes is shifted a week earlier this year. Oh, and Kendra’s riding instructor called to say they were changing lesson times. Ethan says he wants to learn to play the guitar, so I don’t know when we’ll fit that in. What’s the name of that place where your friend’s son took lessons?”

  “Yeah...about that...” Ryan’s mouth, still thick with the flavor of red wine, dried. His tongue stuck in place. He swallowed heavily. “Maybe the kids need a break from some of that stuff this year. I mean, studies are showing that kids are so overscheduled these days.”

  Some of the wives of Ryan’s friends never stopped moving. Multitasking queens, never still. Some of them were pluckers, forever picking at imaginary bits of lint on their husbands’ shirts. Others were texters, chatting briskly even as they held a series of entirely different conversations with their fingers. Bustlers.

  Mari had a stillness that was more than quiet. She could go perfectly motionless and silent. She could almost disappear. Ryan almost always found this calming. She did it now, looking him over, and this time it didn’t soothe him.

  “I thought you liked it when the kids were kept busy.”

  “You could get a break, too. Why should you spend your summer playing chauffeur?” He spun his chair with her still on his lap to gesture at the computer. “Sign them up for the library reading program. And hey, they have that free bowling program at the Cinebowl.”

  “We do those things every summer. But the kids look forward to those other things, they’re not chores.” Her head tilted slightly, her brow furrowing. “Kendra loves the riding lessons, and Ethan is already talking about the guitar thing. They both like camp, too, because they see their friends from other years there. And I don’t mind driving. I mean...it’s what I do. I’m their mother. It’s my job. Would you rather I spend all my time getting massages at the spa?”

  The brittle tone in her voice set him back for a second. “No.” Definitely the opposite with the financial situation they were in.

  “My kids don’t make me crazy,” Mari said quietly. “I like doing things with them. And for them.”

  “I know. But you shouldn’t have to spend all your time driving them around from activity to activity. It’s summer. We should be focused on simpler things. And with you running around all the time, we get too much takeout.”

  Her lips quirked in amusement. “I thought you liked Pat’s cheesesteaks.”

  “I do.” He did, that was true. But a simple dinner for four had added up to almost forty bucks. “It’s better when you make dinner, that’s all.”

  “So...your idea of my having the summer off includes me keeping the kids entertained and cooking even more dinners? Great.” She tilted her head to give him a curious look. “That sounds really relaxing.”

  “No. No, that’s not what I mean.” He took her hand and brushed the knuckles across his lips. “I just think it might be better to cut back on some things. That’s all.”

  “Is it money?”

  Ryan wondered if the reason Mari hardly ever questioned him about anything was because somehow, some way, she just...knew.

  She pursed her lips. “How much less are you getting?”

  Damn it, she cut to the heart of things when she noticed them. Ryan put on a neutral face and lied. “I’m at 85 percent of my salary, that’s all. Just during this investigative period.”

  “That’s not so bad, is it?” She looked over his shoulder at the computer screen, but all she’d see was his aquarium screensaver. She looked back at him, serious eyes, serious mouth. “But if you want me to cut back on expenses, I can do that.”

  He knew she could. Hell, Mari had survived the entire first eight years of her life living at a level so far below poverty he wasn’t sure it could even be registered. Mari could trim the fat of their lives so close to the bone there’d be hardly anything left.

  “No, babe. We don’t have to do that. It’ll be okay.” He said it with more confidence then he felt; a moment later he forced himself to believe it. To forget about the money he’d just transferred. “This’ll pass. No problem.”

  Mari ran her fingers through his hair, then cupped his chin in her palm, forcing him to look into her eyes. What she saw there, Ryan could not have said, but whatever it was seemed to satisfy her because she nodded and kissed him. She held him in her arms, the warmth of her familiar and arousing.

  “It’s only f
or a little while, anyway. Couple of weeks. A month, tops. Just until we get this stupid investigation out of the way,” Ryan said.

  Mari nodded. She believed him, and why not? She always did. She always would.

  SEVEN

  MARI STANDS IN the pantry. The shelves groan with the weight of cans and bags and boxes. She runs her fingertips over them, mouthing the names of all the good things but not speaking aloud. Beans, rice, pasta. She can make a hundred meals from these ingredients. Enough to last for months even if she didn’t go to the grocery store for that long.

  This comforts her, the sight of this wealth. The cool wood and shadows soothe her, too, even if she has to take only two steps to get back into the brightly lit kitchen. She closes her eyes, breathing in the scent of spices. She can smell the brown paper bags stacked carefully in the rack, ready to be reused. The biting stink of ammonia in the bottle toward the back, and also of vinegar closer to the front. A bottle of floor cleaner is supposed to smell “flower-fresh” but doesn’t.

  “Moooom!”

  Mari sticks her head out of the pantry. “What?”

  Kendra jumps, startled, at the kitchen table. “What are you doing in there?”

  “Thinking about what to make for dinner. What do you want?”

  Kendra must want something from her mother, but she doesn’t say what it is. The idea of dinner distracts her. “Can we order pizza?”

  “No.” Mari thinks of Ryan’s words from a few nights before when she’d brought home the cheesesteaks. “I can make some.”

  Kendra makes a face. “Forget it. I’m going over to Sammy’s house, then.”

  Samantha Evans has been Kendra’s best friend since first grade. She lives a few houses down the street. Her parents have been on the edge of divorce for years, and neither are probably home now. They both work. They both stay out of the house a lot so they don’t have to see each other. Mari would prefer it if the girls came to spend time in her house where she can keep an eye on them, where she can do her meager best to give Sammy some semblance of normal family life—but she understands that two teen girls want to spend their time in independence, such as it is.