by Nicole Baart
But Evan had refused to tell Jess what happened.
She looked at Cody’s name on her list and underlined it twice.
Anna texted midafternoon and said that she would pick up the boys from school. I’m out and about, her message read. Can I get anything for you?
Jess was tempted to text back: Answers. Instead she wrote: A gallon of milk.
Anna was trying and that was something. She and Henry had only been married for two years, though Jess’s mother, Betsy, had been gone for over a decade. Why was it so hard for Jess to accept her dad’s new wife? She was a grown woman, steady and mature and really rather accepting, but everything about Anna rubbed her the wrong way. Anna’s childish voice grated, and her worn Birkenstock sandals seemed more suited for a wandering hippie. Jess didn’t like the layers of bangles Anna wore on her arms or the little Chinese symbol tattoo on the nape of her neck that was just visible beneath the fringe of her stylish silver hair. Anna was quite lovely for her age, quick to smile and generous with her hugs. But she was also a bit ditzy. She often said the wrong thing but didn’t have the grace to realize when she had put her foot in her mouth. In short, the new Mrs. Henry Lancaster was nothing like the original. Still, Jess felt like a recalcitrant teenager in the presence of her stepmother, and she could never quite seem to graduate from that small, critical place.
It was the yoga clothes, Jess decided when Anna swept in, batik fabric billowing on a cold breeze of boys and laughter. Well, Gabe was laughing. Both he and Max had a Dairy Queen Blizzard in hand, an enormous cup of ice cream and candy that would ruin dinner completely. Not that a frozen lasagna was anything to get excited about.
“Sorry,” Anna said, handing Jessica a gallon of 1 percent milk. “Gabe asked and I couldn’t resist.”
Jess thought unkindly, It’s because the crystals are interfering with your brain waves. She was shocked by her own harshness. “Thank you for the milk,” she said, turning to the refrigerator and depositing the jug inside. “And for picking the boys up. It saved me a trip.”
“No problem,” Anna practically sang. “Happy to help.”
Jess knew that she was. Her stepmother had been angling for an inroad, hoping for a way to connect with Jessica and the boys. They were the only children and grandchildren that Anna had ever had, and she was earnest but bumbling. Henry Lancaster was her first marriage. It showed.
“Would you like a cup of tea?” Jess asked, surprising herself. Maybe she could try too.
Anna’s eyebrow quirked, her lips lifting in a mixture of surprise and delight. “I’d love to!” she said. But then, crestfallen: “I can’t. I have an appointment with the chiropractor. It’s what brought me out this afternoon.”
“Next time,” Jess said. “Thanks again for bringing the boys home.”
“No problem. Happy to do it. I think they appreciated a cheerful face when they hopped in the car!”
Anna bustled over to give Gabe a parting kiss on the head and Jessica was happy that her stepmother couldn’t see her roll her eyes. As if Jess wasn’t cheerful. Well, maybe she wasn’t cheerful, per se, but she was their mother and she loved them with all her heart. She was doing her very best. Wasn’t that worth something?
And yet, as Anna left in a whirl of glittering earrings (totally inappropriate for a Monday afternoon) and patchouli oil, Jess had to admit that her boys looked more relaxed than they had been in days. Even Max had chosen to sit at the breakfast nook to finish his ice cream instead of retreating to the solace of his bedroom.
“Hey,” Jess said, scooting onto the bench beside Gabe. “Let me guess. Mint chocolate chip”—she pointed at Gabe’s cup, then Max’s—“and cookie dough, no chocolate sauce.”
Gabe gave her a long-suffering look. “Mom, I always order mint chip.”
“You could have been feeling adventurous today.”
“Nope.”
Jess opened her mouth for a bite and Gabe spooned it in carefully, then grinned when she pretended to swoon.
“How about you?” Jess said, turning to Max. Her throat was cool from the ice cream and she felt a little lighter. Maybe Anna had been on the right track with sugary treats. “Did I get it?”
Max showed her his empty cup and moved to slide out of the booth. “I guess you’ll never know.”
“You were right: he had cookie dough!” Gabe shouted. “Grandma ordered it in the drive-through.”
“Baby,” Max huffed, employing his favorite insult. It made Gabe crazy.
“I’m not a baby!”
“Max!” Jess said, her voice rigid with warning. And then, “Of course you’re not a baby, Gabe. You’re almost seven.” He tried to climb over her to get to Max, but the table was in the way and he gave up, choosing Jess’s lap over a fight he wouldn’t win. Jess wrapped her arms around his warm weight and nuzzled into his neck for a kiss. He smelled of fresh air and pencil shavings and essence of little boy. She could have stayed curled around him for hours, lost in the innocence of his banter, but she didn’t want to miss another opportunity with Max.
“Love you, bug,” Jess whispered against Gabe’s temple. Then she deposited him on the bench and eased herself out. “Finish your ice cream. I’ll be back in a minute.”
Already there was no trace of Max. Not in the dining room or in the hall. He was so quick, so stealthy. He stole through the house like a shadow, and sometimes Jessica wondered if her son was disappearing right before her eyes. Fading like dusk, until all that was left was darkness and the tragic sense that something beautiful was gone.
“Max?” she called, starting up the stairs. “Max, honey, I want to talk to you.”
Jess heard the sound of his bedroom door closing and raced the final distance so she could turn the handle before he locked it. She caught it just in time, and pushed the door open into Max’s shoulder.
“Ouch!” he accused, rubbing his arm as he backed away. Jess knew he wasn’t hurt, but it was frustrating that he had something else to blame on her.
“Sorry,” Jess said. “I wanted to catch you before you turned on your music.”
“What for?” He flopped on his bed, making the springs creak in protest. He stayed there, sprawled out, facedown and tilted away from her until the silence stretched thin and awkward.
Jess knew he was hurting. First his parents separated, and then his father died. It was more than any thirteen-year-old could bear. And yet, what choice did he have? If wishes were pennies, Jess would be rich from all the secret hopes she had for her son. But the world she longed to give him and the reality they lived were oceans apart.
“I know this is hard,” Jess said, sitting down on the edge of the bed. She chanced a touch, just her fingertips on the hem of his jeans. “Want to talk about it?”
“Talk about what?” Max rolled over and brought his arms behind his head. He studied her dispassionately. “We don’t have anything to talk about.”
She sighed. “Fine. I’ll talk. I love you, Max. I’m here for you.”
“Sure,” he said. Then he reached in his front pocket and extracted a pink square of paper. He tossed it at her.
“What’s this?”
“A one-day suspension.”
“What?” Jess nearly tore the paper in her haste to unfold it. Of course she recognized the pink half sheet. They used the same ones in the high school. Still, it was hard to believe that this one had her son’s name written across the top. “I don’t understand . . .” But as she said it she caught sight of the note scrawled on the bottom.
Jessica, I’m so sorry, but Max never showed up for work detail. We’ve already extended the deadline past the contractual end date. According to the agreement we reached with the police department, this is the next step. He cannot come to school tomorrow and he MUST show up for his community service hours next week.
—Mason
Of course. Jessica raised a hand to her neck and massaged the tight cords of muscles. She had emails in her inbox from Mason Vonk, the middle school principal, but
she had intentionally ignored them. Jess had figured they were condolences, well wishes. After Evan’s death, she had all but forgotten about the trouble that Max was in.
“I forgot,” she said by way of apology.
“Yeah, whatever.” Max threw his feet off the side of the bed and shuffled over to his desk. He plopped down in the straight-backed chair, clearly dismissing her.
“Max, I’m so sorry. I feel like this is my fault. I’ll call Mr. Vonk first thing in the morning.” Jess was warming up, rising to the occasion of fighting for her son. Mama Bear was a role she played well, and she felt her skin tingle at the prospect of being needed. “Better yet, I’ll stop by his office. Let’s leave early tomorrow morning and you can come with me. He’ll understand.”
“Stop!” Max threw up a hand and gave her a hard look over his shoulder. “So what? I’m suspended for a day.”
“But—”
“Let it go. I didn’t clean up the graffiti like you promised I would. It’s not a big deal.”
“It is a big deal—”
“I don’t care, okay?” Max was yelling now, his voice cracking in a way that reminded Jess he was still a child—no matter how much he looked like a young man. “I don’t give a shit about this school! Or Auburn! Or—”
He cut off abruptly, the word sliced from the air between them with the snap of his teeth. But Jess knew it anyway. It was reflected in his eyes.
You. He was going to say: you.
* * *
LaShonna Tate
RE: We need to talk
To: [email protected]
March 17, 2018
I wasn’t entirely honest with you when we talked several weeks ago. Yes, I’m pregnant. Yes, the baby is due in July. And yes, I would still like you and Jessica to consider adopting her.
What I didn’t tell you is that I’m going to prison. It’s a 16-month sentence for a crime that I didn’t commit. At least, not knowingly. Search my name and it’ll come up. I’ve been linked to the embezzlement of a quarter million dollars from a nonprofit organization that works as an advocacy group in downtown St. Paul. There was a “lack of managerial oversight” and it fell in part to me because I filed the reports. Never mind that I was handed fabricated audits from someone I had no reason to doubt. I’m still in shock. My sentence starts next week.
Evan, my baby is going to be born in prison. It’s hard for me to get my mind around this. You don’t need my whole family history, but it’s just me and my mom and she isn’t talking to me right now. I don’t know if she ever will again.
I don’t think I can do this alone. But I can and I will. I just need to know that this baby is going to be taken care of. Before the sentence was handed down, I actually thought I’d parent this time. I’m older and wiser, all those things you tell yourself when you think your life is about to begin again. I had visions of Gabe meeting his sister someday, of the relationship that they could have. That maybe we could have—all of us, I mean. It’s ridiculous, I know, but I believe that family is so much more than blood.
Of course, everything is different now. I can’t stand the thought of my child becoming a ward of the state, and I can’t ask my mother to help. It would mean the world to me to keep these two together.
Please say yes.
LaShonna
LaShonna T.
25, unknown, BA
Curly, chin-length hair. Gabe’s eyes.
I know.
FEL. EMBZ, 16m, 1m pp
CHAPTER 9
THERE WERE FLOWERS waiting in Jess’s classroom, an autumnal arrangement with sunflowers, orange dahlias, and giant mums that looked like peaches ripe for the picking. Jess knew without reading the card that they were from Meredith. Meredith, whose love language was simply: gifts. Giving and receiving. Jessica had been the beneficiary of her best friend’s extravagance for years.
The bouquet was bright and happy, but it didn’t do anything to dispel the glum mood in Jess’s classroom. It looked as if her substitute had left the kids in charge. Textbooks were at odd angles on the shelves, candy wrappers on the floor. The janitors swept each individual classroom once a week, on Fridays, and the rest of the time the teachers were supposed to keep things neat and tidy. Jess had always been meticulous about her space, barring the door when the bell rang until everyone had done their part to clean up the room. Papers in the recycle bin, garbage in the trash. Desks lined up and chairs tucked underneath. Clearly Mrs. Chamberlain’s standards had not been observed in her absence.
Dropping her bag in her old swivel chair, Jess pushed her hair behind her ears with both hands and heaved a sigh. She felt as if she couldn’t get quite enough air—her chest was pinched and aching—so she tried again. It was no use.
Jess had left Max at home. She had to go back to school, had to, but it drove her crazy to just leave him there. Her skin itched knowing that instead of leaning against his locker, laughing with friends, her son was lounging in bed. At least, that’s where he had been when she left less than a half hour ago. Jess had rapped softly on his door, and when he didn’t answer, she eased it open. Lights out, covers drawn. The room was quiet, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t sleeping. Max slept as still and silent as the dead. He always had. When he was an infant, this particular skill cost Jess over a year of good sleep. She was terrified that one day her son would just stop breathing.
Today, she felt like she could.
Sitting on the edge of her desk, Jess picked up the school phone and punched in the numbers of a three-digit extension she knew by heart. Mason picked up on the first ring.
“Jessica,” he said, bypassing “Hello” and “How are you?” entirely. Clearly he knew Jess’s extension, too. “I’m so sorry.”
It was probably unprofessional of Mason to be so transparently sympathetic. When they had powwowed with the police in the middle school conference room a few weeks before, Jess could see that it nearly caused the principal physical pain to confront Max. “He’s a good kid,” Mason had told her, gripping Jess’s arm in his broad hand. He was a nice-enough guy, middle-aged and softening both around the middle and in his disciplinary tactics, but his fingers were a little too insistent, too tight. “He’s just going through a hard time right now.” As if Jessica didn’t know.
She was convinced Max’s angst was compounded by the fact that Evan had not made it to that particular disciplinary meeting. Jess had to handle the situation alone, but Max felt like his advocate had abandoned him. Never mind that she was his biggest cheerleader.
“It’s okay,” Jess said now, pressing her fingers to her collarbone and trying again to catch a breath. “I totally understand. But I need to know: Will this go on his permanent record?”
A beat of silence. “You know that it will. I don’t really have a choice.”
Jess had hoped for a little preferential treatment in light of everything their family had endured in the last couple of weeks. But that wasn’t just unfair, it was foolish. Life went on, even if it felt like hers had come screeching to a halt. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I shouldn’t have asked.”
“I understand. I wish that we could have given him a bit more time, but we agreed to handle the issue off the record and—”
“I know,” Jess broke in, silently chastising herself for making Mason so uncomfortable. “And I need you to know how grateful I am that the school decided not to press charges. He’ll be there first thing tomorrow morning and every morning thereafter until it’s done.”
“Thanks, Jessica. I really appreciate your cooperation in this.”
When Jess hung up, her hands were shaking. In the chaos of everything that had happened since Max was caught with a small arsenal of spray paint cans in his backpack, bigger issues had taken center stage. But of course nothing ever just went away. And Max’s crime remained in brilliant swaths of rainbow graffiti all over the redbrick wall of Auburn’s middle school gym.
Really, it was quite pretty, the swirls and angles and angry bolts of color as b
right and shocking as modern art. Maybe they would have considered leaving it if it wasn’t so clearly, painfully filled with rage.
At least he hadn’t painted cuss words.
Jess made it through the morning buoyed by the unexpected mercy of teenagers. They were gentle with her, funny and tender in turns, making her laugh in spite of herself, just when she needed it most. Her mother had questioned her sanity when Jess proclaimed that she wanted to be a high school English teacher, but it was days like these that confirmed she was exactly where she was supposed to be. Jess genuinely cared for her students, but more than that, she took them seriously. They were sensitive and smart and sometimes capable of seeing things that the adults who looked down on them simply couldn’t. Jess needed them and they knew it. They rose to the occasion.
When the bell rang for her lunch period, Jess grabbed the granola bar that she had stuffed in her bag and refilled her water bottle in the drinking fountain. She couldn’t quite stomach the thought of going into the teacher’s lounge and facing all her coworkers. Jess got along with everyone at Auburn High well enough, but this was entirely new territory. Her son was a criminal, her husband dead. She felt like people were watching her, and it was true. They were kind, but they were also secretly grateful that they weren’t her. And somehow that hurt worse than knowing that they disdained her. A stroke of luck separated them, nothing more.
In between the middle and high school there was a long hallway with a bank of tall windows. The window ledge was low and wide enough to sit on, and the hall was rarely used. It was one of Jessica’s favorite spots in the school. She took her granola bar and water bottle, and found a quiet nook to sit with her back against the glass. The autumn sun glittered and danced furiously off the yellow walls and cream-colored tiles, making the hallway almost too warm in spite of the frosty air outside.
Jess leaned against the cool window and pulled up Safari on her phone. Ignoring her lunch, she settled into her new favorite pastime: scouring the internet for any information she could dig up on the people she had collected on her list. The stack of papers that she needed to grade was growing by the day, but Thanksgiving was coming up. Jess could catch up then. Besides, she was learning so much. So far she had discovered that Cody De Jager had spent a couple of months in jail for a DUI—his third—and Jake Holmes had once been charged with assault. Jess wasn’t surprised. She took screenshots of everything she found and filed the pictures in a folder marked “Evan” on her phone.
