Depth of Lies

by E. C. Diskin

  “Twenty days and counting.”

  “Perfect. Our kids will grow up together! Welcome to the neighborhood.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Husband?” Shea asked, looking toward the open front door while the movers carried in more boxes.

  “Business trip.”

  “Men,” she smirked. “Oh my, look at those cankles!” she added with a chuckle.

  Kat looked down at her swollen ankles, like two small tree trunks.

  “Why do you think I’m wearing these flip-flops?” Shea said. “This little guy is three weeks now, and I still can’t fit in my shoes. Let’s get your feet up.”

  “Can’t. They put all the furniture in the truck first. There’s nowhere to sit yet,” Kat said as the movers moved passed her again.

  “Come on,” Shea said, offering a hand to help Kat stand. Kat took it. Shea was commanding like that. The kind of person you just follow with blind trust that she could lead you to something good. Shea led Kat down the sidewalk and past the movers, who were stacking more boxes onto a dolly, only slightly more carefully.

  “Hey, guys,” Shea said, “be extra careful and I’ll have a little something special for you when you’re done.” Both men stopped and smiled, watching as Shea passed. Even with a newborn strapped to her chest, she was sexy.

  Kat followed Shea into her house. “Sit,” Shea said, leading Kat to the living room sofa. Kat complied. “Feet up,” she said, handing Kat the remote control. “You’re going to relax for an hour. I got this.”

  “No,” Kat said. “Thanks, but . . .”

  “Listen, this one is quiet and sleeping if I keep moving. I was literally walking out to go round and round the block when I heard your scream. I will happily manage those men and be sure everything gets inside the house. It’s my specialty.”

  “What, moving?” Kat asked, while relaxing back into the sofa. Shea had already walked out of the room.

  “No, silly,” she yelled from another room. “Men!” She reappeared with a six-pack of beer, raising it in the air. “Motivation,” she said as she walked to the front door.

  The living room windows were open, and the sheers moved with the breeze. Shea was saying something to the movers Kat couldn’t make out, but whatever it was, it led to laughter. Kat smiled and quickly fell asleep. When she woke and waddled back outside, the truck was almost empty and her house had become a home.

  Kat finished her wine and went inside for a refill while Lina and Tori shared their own first encounters with Shea two decades earlier.

  When she returned, the women were laughing about the first time Shea brought a full happy hour spread of wine, cheese, and crackers, as well as a folding table, to one of the kids’ T-ball games. She could turn anything into a party.

  “So, Evelyn,” Dee said, “You’re the newbie to our little circle. How’d you get so close to Shea?”

  “Wasn’t she your Realtor?” Kat asked.

  “She was,” Evelyn said. “Oh jeez, I still can’t believe this is real.” She wiped her eye. “I told her about my divorce, about the new job, being in a new town, and she insisted that I join her for wine one afternoon. I guess the rest is history.”

  “That sounds about right,” Tori said. “When Shea and Ryan moved to Maple Park, she actually slipped invitations under the doors of all their new neighbors and invited them over for happy hour.”

  “I could never do that,” Kat said. Evelyn agreed.

  “Why?” Tori asked.

  “What if no one came? What if only two came and you stood there staring at each other? What if the neighbors were weirdos or psychos? What if people came and never left? The whole concept blows my mind. I guess I just fear the unknown.”

  “Oh, Kit Kat,” Tori said. “As Taylor Swift would say, ‘Shake It Off.’”

  Kat chuckled. “I should probably try her strategy in Texas.”

  “I’m surprised you’d need to. Southern hospitality and all that,” Dee said.

  “Yeah, well . . .” Kat said, finishing her glass, “you’d be surprised.”

  Dee leaned forward for a chardonnay refill. “Well, I just think Evelyn is lucky Shea was so confident and outgoing. I don’t know if I would have befriended such a hot divorcée, inviting her into my life like that.”

  Kat rolled her eyes. Dee’s tone negated the compliment. The first time Dee told Kat she “wasn’t a fan” had been about thirty minutes after Evelyn had been introduced to Dee’s husband, Charlie.

  Evelyn had made Kat a little insecure when they first met, too, but it wasn’t because of Mack. Just a day after telling Shea she was thinking about accepting the promotion that would require a move to Texas, Kat arrived home from work and heard Shea in the backyard, hosting a happy hour. Shea called Kat over to the fence and introduced her to Evelyn, showing her off like some beautiful, younger replacement. She even boasted about Evelyn’s job as a computer consultant. It was the first time Shea didn’t insist Kat come over and join them. Everything about that moment felt like high school.

  “I’ve often thought about how lucky I was to meet her,” Evelyn replied. “It was like she adopted me.”

  “Yeah,” Dee said. “Shea was always taking in strays.”

  “I guess that’s me,” Evelyn said, letting the insult roll away.

  Kat had probably been like a stray, too. She wasn’t single when she met Shea, but she had definitely been in a dark place at the time, and Shea had saved her.

  Kat asked Evelyn about her new job, determined to undo Dee’s open hostility. “It’s good, busy,” Evelyn said. It was the same answer Kat had given Tori and Lina in the car. Maybe Shea had been drawn to Evelyn because she reminded her of Kat.

  Having moved to Chicago a year earlier for work, Evelyn was starting over somewhere new, just like Kat. To see her easy insertion into social life in Maple Park gave Kat hope for Texas.

  “Okay,” Dee said, shifting in her chair. “I don’t want to get too maudlin here, but our friend just killed herself. We need to talk about it.”

  “We don’t know that,” Kat protested. She put her empty glass on the table. “It could have been an accident.”

  “But they found an empty Vicodin bottle in her room,” Evelyn said gently.

  “Still, we don’t know how much was in her system, right?”

  “True,” Tori said, drawing out the word. “It takes some time to get the tox screen back.”

  Lina was wrapping the ends of her scarf around her finger the way she used to wrap her long, thick hair. “Did any of you know she was taking Vicodin?”

  “I know she got some a year ago for her shoulder,” Dee said.

  But Evelyn shook her head. “I don’t think it was about shoulder pain.”

  They fell silent for a moment.

  “I’ve seen television specials about stay-at-home, suburban soccer moms who become addicted to pills,” Tori said. “Starts out innocent enough, but some of them lose everything, end up heroin addicts.”

  “Jesus, Tori,” Lina said. “I’d rather not see her name get smeared with wild rumors of drug addiction.”

  Tori’s expression turned wounded. “I’m not spreading rumors. I’m just saying what I’ve learned. Jeez.”

  “She wouldn’t do that to her kids,” Kat said. “I just don’t believe it. I mean, obviously, something was going on, but . . . no. You guys, no.” She couldn’t stop shaking her head.

  “People who do this aren’t thinking straight,” Tori said.

  Kat couldn’t stop the tears. She knew better than anyone how dark thoughts could go round and round, like a track, and every return to those thoughts carved the track deeper, like falling into a gutter, making it impossible to think of anything else. Her own predelivery tears had been nothing compared to the postpartum that followed. Shea had rarely left her alone during those first weeks of maternity leave, popping in each day to suggest a walk, reminding Kat that she was there to put the commune in community. She was a master of squeezing a smile out of Kat�
�s tears. But the darkness of those days had been serious enough to keep Kat from having any more children.

  If Shea had become depressed, she would have talked to Kat.

  But then she remembered: Shea had tried. The night before she died. The memory felt like a brick in the pit of her stomach. Shea had reached out to Kat, only to be ignored. She’d been crying out for help . . . Kat shook her head. No. Her death had to be an accident. It had to be anything but intentional. “Is that what the police suspect?” she asked.

  “The police and the coroner could only confirm that she was alone,” Tori said. “No sign of foul play.”

  “So, that’s it?” Kat needed more. Like why Shea drove five hours alone when she hated driving alone, why she didn’t tell a soul where she was headed, and what was going on to make her drink so much.

  With all remnants of sun replaced by darkness and the temperature dropping, they moved to the fire pit and watched the flames dance as sparks rose to the sky. Dee brought out more wine and refilled their glasses. It was obvious she was trying to lighten things up, but Kat couldn’t stop staring at the fire, thinking about how she’d failed the friend who’d been there for her too many times to count.

  “Hey,” Lina said, leaning forward and slapping Kat’s knee, as if to pull her from her trance. “Shea was at my chemo treatment two weeks ago, just to sit with me,” she said. “I know she was there to keep my spirits up, but she seemed fine. And when I asked how things were with Ryan, she said, ‘Great,’ emphatically, like that was a big change. I got the sense they were on the mend.”

  “I thought they were doing better, too,” Tori said. “I asked about it at Georgia’s Christmas party. Shea and Ryan were flirting with each other and joking around. She said she’d been wrong about him—and that they were working on it. It wasn’t the time to dig, so I let it go.”

  Kat smiled. “See? That’s good. We don’t know.” She nodded, determined to keep the idea of suicide off the table.

  “Hey, Lina,” Dee said, “side note, next time you have a treatment, just say the word. I’ll go with you.”

  “Me, too,” Tori said.

  Lina swatted away their somber expressions. “Don’t worry about me. I’m still kickin’. And although I can’t have more than one drink”—she raised her glass—“I do have some pretty sweet medical Mary Jane with me, so, play your cards right and maybe I’ll share.”

  The idea of smoking Lina’s marijuana prompted stories about who had tried it, when, and with what results, fostering much-needed levity while everyone snacked on the goat cheese spread and artichoke dip.

  “Dee,” Kat said. “What does Ryan think?”

  “How would I know?” she asked before chugging the remains of the wine in her glass. “I haven’t talked to Ryan in ages.”

  “I just figured he might have told Charlie something,” Kat clarified. “Aren’t they pretty tight?”

  “Doubt it.” Dee stood up. “Who needs more wine?” she asked the others, walking back into the house without waiting for a response.

  Tori turned to Kat, ignoring Dee’s strange behavior. “Herman talked to Ryan a little. Shea told him she was going to her sister’s place in Michigan, something about her niece being in a play,” Tori said.

  “So Ryan doesn’t know why she went to Put-in-Bay?” Lina asked.

  “Nope,” Tori answered.

  Evelyn twirled her glass in her hands. “She had been looking at real estate on the island, but Ryan didn’t know about it.”

  Lina’s brows rose. “What did he make of that?”

  Evelyn hesitated, and Dee, having returned with a fresh bottle and full glass, said, “Maybe Shea was cheating,” before plopping into her chair.

  Kat stared at her. “Are you serious?”

  Dee just shrugged.

  “You guys. She wouldn’t do that. Maybe she was going to surprise Ryan with some getaway house she found.”

  “But Ryan was out of work,” Tori said. “Why would she be browsing getaway houses?”

  “I just don’t want us to assume the worst,” Kat said.

  “Please,” Dee said. “Shea was reckless. Don’t you remember that she was the one who taught us the YOLO bit?”

  Kat motioned toward the large tree perched by the dock behind Tori’s house. “I don’t think shouting ‘YOLO’ while trying to coax us into swinging from that rope into the lake is the same as having an affair.”

  “YOLO?” Evelyn asked.

  “You only live once,” Tori said.

  “She was an optimist,” Kat said.

  “She thought nothing bad could ever happen to her,” Dee said.

  “This coming from the woman who does backflips off the back of my boat every year?” Tori asked.

  “Yes, but I can do it.”

  “Well, that’s one of the things I loved about her,” Kat said.

  Dee scoffed. “I loved her, too, but let’s not act like she was a saint. I know for a fact that she was with another man this winter and essentially blew up someone’s marriage.”

  No one spoke. Kat felt like she’d been slapped across the face. She wanted to defend Shea against such an outrageous accusation. Shea was a flirt and sometimes wild, but she was devoted to Ryan. She and Kat had joked to each other for years about their husbands, complaining about minor things—toothpaste caps and dirty clothes and dishes in the sink—but they’d also joked about their sex lives, laughing about the dry spells, the attempts to be alone when kids were in the house, their desire for more date nights. They were solid. And Shea respected marriage. She always wanted to emulate her own parents’ marriage. She wouldn’t do that. Dee was describing a different woman. None of it made sense.

  Dee shook her head, looking remorseful. “I’m sorry, but it’s true. And don’t ask me to elaborate. I’m not going to say.”

  CHAPTER 6

  November 26

  ON SATURDAY NIGHT, SHEA AND Ryan were back to living in silence. The kids were out visiting high school friends home for the holiday, and Shea was curled up under a blanket in the living room, absently watching some made-for-TV movie about a married couple in trouble with secrets and lies. An adulterer, determined to get rid of a wife. Maybe Ryan should do that, she joked to herself. At least he’d get the life insurance. Her life had become a cliché.

  She’d continued to avoid him with busywork: cleaning up from the holiday, doing the kids’ laundry, scouring the MLS listings for her two clients. It was too hard to think about what would happen if he finally admitted what was going on and she shared her own secrets. She wasn’t ready to face having everything they’d built over twenty-seven years of marriage crumble to the ground.

  She looked out the window toward Kat’s place. The windows were dark. They’d headed south for the holiday weekend, first to New Orleans to take Peter out for Thanksgiving, and then west to Houston, to look for a new home. Everything was changing. The kids were gone. Kat was leaving. Dee’s kids were gone. Tori would probably take off once her youngest got done with school. They had that lake house. Nothing was holding anyone here.

  She looked around the room, the walls she’d painted, first pale green when they’d moved in, then beige a few years later. She’d painted every wall in this house at least twice. She’d made every window treatment. The kids’ heights were marked on that doorjamb upstairs. Her universe was here, inside these walls, in this town, but the kids had left, Kat was next, and now her marriage was ending.

  Ryan walked in with two glasses of wine and asked to join her. As he stood there, looking insecure, asking permission for companionship, she moved the blanket, making some room.

  “Something is bothering you,” he said, taking a seat beside her and grabbing the remote. Shea watched him hit the “Mute” button.

  She took a long sip of the wine and placed it on the table beside her, leaving her fingers around the stem, holding on for dear life.

  “You’re cheating again,” she said, her words aimed at the glass. She didn’t want
to cry, but she felt a drop escape and quickly wiped her face.

  Ryan scoffed. “What? I told you—”

  “Stop lying to me. You dismissed that bra in your drawer with no explanation, and, like an idiot, I chose to believe you. I wanted to believe you. I told myself that Leigh must have had a friend here and somehow it got in our laundry and ended up in your drawer. It’s ridiculous, even to say it now.”

  What was more ridiculous was that she chose to believe him at all. It had been three years since he’d been unfaithful, but it felt like they were right back there again. Unmistakable evidence that he’d been with someone else.

  “Baby, I swear to God, I don’t know where that bra came from. I didn’t do anything.”

  “I should have known this would happen again.”

  Ryan put down the wine, irritated. “What does that mean?”

  She didn’t say anything, and for a moment, neither did he. They’d worked through it a long time ago. They’d seen a counselor. She hadn’t wanted their family to fall apart. She’d believed he’d never do it again. He’d sworn it had been nothing. Entirely physical. A terrible lack of judgment and a betrayal. He’d said everything she needed to hear.

  Shea finally looked at his face, to see the truth in his eyes. “Don’t lie to me, Ryan. I can’t take any more lies. I saw your e-mail to some woman last week. Sandy?”

  His indignation turned to confusion, and then she saw the spark of recognition. He knew what she was talking about. He looked away from her, took a sip of wine, slowly, as if he needed to figure out the best way to spin it, and finally nodded. He put the glass on the table before turning to her. She was struck by a sudden desire to slap him across the face.

  “It’s not an affair.”

  “Bullshit,” Shea said, tossing the blanket aside. She needed to be able to storm off quickly.

  “I swear. I’ve never even met her.” And then he started talking. It was virtual infidelity. He was embarrassed. Some sort of stress relief, he said. It seemed innocent when it all began early in the fall. Some buddy had sent him links to porn sites, and he’d clicked, curious. It was nothing. But then it had spiraled forward.