“Is it too heavy?” Barb asked, worried.
“Nah. I just wish I’d changed after work.” Sharon was a commercial insurance agent in Philadelphia, so she was dressed in a white oxford shirt with a navy blue suit. “Can I just ask, why didn’t you have the delivery guy bring it up?”
“It cost extra. They call it white glove service. Are you sorry you dropped in?”
“No way.” Sharon hoisted the mattress from the bottom, climbing the stairwell slowly. “I’m happy to help.”
“Thanks, I appreciate it.” Barb felt so grateful to Sharon, who was one of the few friends who had stuck with her, after what had happened last year.
“I’m just so glad you moved back.”
“Me, too.” Barb and Sharon had grown up together in nearby Meghan’s Run, a quaint town that got swallowed up by strip malls and developments like Brandywine Hunt.
“Whatever.” Sharon pushed the mattress upward with a grunt of effort. “Thank God it’s only a single mattress.”
“That would be me, from here on. Single all the way.”
“You could meet someone. I know a girl at work who’s dating someone she met online, if you can believe that.”
“That’s crazy.” Barb yanked on the mattress. “Let’s review. I live in the suburbs with a teenage son. I have a dead-end job. Oh, and lest we forget, my ex is in prison. Other than that, I’m marketable.”
“You could be the bad girl.” Sharon’s dark eyes glittered.
“I was never the bad girl.”
“I tried to teach you, but you failed.” Sharon grinned crookedly. “Guess what I heard? Tom Whitfield is single.”
“The day I go back to my high school boyfriend, shoot me.” Barb groaned, hauling the mattress.
“Why? He was sweet.”
“He was eighteen!” Barb had to admit to feeling a tingle. She’d been crazy about Tom back then. But still, you can’t go home again. Then she realized she was trying. She reached the top of the landing. “You need a break?”
“No, I’m fine. Git ’er done.”
“You sure you want to be at the bottom? I think the bottom is harder.” Barb flashed on her first day at college. They’d gone to the University of Delaware with many of their classmates, since Meghan’s Run was close to the state line. “You know, I think we had this same conversation when we moved into the dorm, remember?”
“Are you kidding? I don’t remember yesterday, much less the first day of college.”
“Let’s go.” Barb edged backward, and the mattress curved in the narrow staircase, then got wedged against the bannister. “Oh no, it’s stuck.”
“Damn.” Sharon stopped, wiping her brow. “Just shove it hard around the corner.”
“I knew you were going to say that.” Barb muscled the mattress around the stairwell as Sharon inched up, and together they reached the hallway on the second floor, where they caught their breath. “I can’t believe I’m starting over at my age. What’s next, orange crates full of albums?”
“Honey, you can start over at any age. And you got rid of bad rubbish.”
“That’s true.” Barb tried not to second-guess herself, but it came second nature. “I should never have married him in the first place.”
“You loved him.”
“I was blind.”
“Let it go, girl.”
“I can’t, when I look at what it cost. All it cost.” Barb sighed heavily, and the hallway felt tight, warm, and vaguely claustrophobic.
“Go. Move.”
“Got it.” Barb slid the mattress toward the spare room, and Sharon pushed from behind. They passed the family photos on the wall, which were few, since Barb hung only those with her and Kyle.
“You landed on your feet, and you did the right thing. That matters most of all.”
“Remind me, so I feel good about myself.”
“You blew the whistle on your sleazoid husband.”
“I should’ve known it earlier.”
“You couldn’t have, he hid it from everybody. Give yourself some credit, please.”
“I can’t.” Barb shuddered to remember that night, the beginning of the end. Brian had been working late so often that she suspected he was having an affair. It wasn’t like him, but she’d felt him pulling away from her, spending more time at the hospital. He was a pediatric oncologist, and she understood that he was dedicated to his cases. He always brought the work home, withdrawn when he’d lose a patient. But their sex life had tapered off, even from married-people levels.
So one night when Brian said he was working late, Barb had driven to the hospital and gone upstairs to the pediatric oncology floor. It had been after visiting hours, and Barb had beelined for the nurses’ station, staffed by a nurse she knew, Sandy, who looked up from her computer.
Hey, Sandy, Barb had whispered. Is Brian here? I want to surprise him. I have some great news.
Yes. Sandy’s eyes had flared with excitement. What’s the surprise? Can you tell me?
Not before I tell him. Are you the only nurse on duty?
No, Cheryl and Bob are both on. You know Bob but not Cheryl. She’s new, young. Bob’s showing her the ropes.
I see. Barb had suspected that Brian was showing Cheryl the ropes.
Just tell me, you’re not pregnant, are you?
Are you insane? Barb had whispered, and they’d laughed.
I think they’re down the hall, in 301. It’s a little girl with spleen cancer, a two-year-old. The mom went downstairs for a coffee.
Thanks. Barb had headed down the hall, bracing herself to catch him with the young nurse. She’d hoped they could go to therapy and work it out. She hadn’t wanted to break up their family. And she’d had to admit, she still loved him. Barb had walked down the hallway, passing rooms 307, 305, and 303. The door to 301 had been closed, but she’d cracked it open, peeking inside. It had been too dark to see what was going on, since the only light on was over the child’s crib.
Barb’s eyes had adjusted to the semidarkness, but there was no young nurse in the room, nor was Bob. Brian had been leaning over the crib, with the railing down. The toddler had been sound asleep, her head to one side, with tape holding her oxygen tube onto her tiny cheek. Brian had been whispering in her ear, and Barb had felt touched until she realized that the toddler’s diaper was off and Brian’s hand was between the little girl’s legs.
Barb had screamed.
Sharon cocked her head. “You don’t regret what you did, do you?”
“No,” Barb answered, meaning it. That night, hospital security had come running, the police had been called, and Brian had been arrested on the spot. The police investigated, so did the hospital, and sedatives were found in thirteen of Brian’s patients, resulting in child abuse, child endangerment, and sexual abuse charges. The newspapers had had a field day, calling Brian Dr. Dirtbag, and when the case had gone to trial, Barb had testified for the prosecution. The jury had convicted Brian, and he’d been sentenced to twenty-five years in prison.
“You did the right thing, honey.”
“But Kyle’s not doing well at all. He left everything behind. His friends, his team, his school.”
“He’ll make new friends when school starts.”
“I think he’s angry at Brian, but he misses him, too.” Barb felt her chest tighten. “He misses who he thought he was, and I think he blames me for testifying.”
“But he admires it, too.”
“I know. He’s torn.”
“Welcome to motherhood. You’re the safe one to blame. You catch it all. Moms are lightning rods with breasts.”
Barb smiled, then it faded. “He hates the name change. He finds it confusing, which I get.”
“I think it was a good idea.”
Barb told Sharon something that Kyle had said last week: Mom, it’s different for me than for you. We moved to where you grew up, so you’re home. I’m not. You drive around knowing all the roads. I don’t. You went back to your maiden name, but it’
s your name. Gallagher is not my name. It never was.
Sharon winced. “So what did you say?”
“I said, ‘Honey, you’re right and I’m sorry it turned out this way.’ ”
“And what did he say?”
“He took the dog out. He walks the dog all the time. The dog’s going to be a skeleton if this keeps up.”
“But what else could you have done after Brian was convicted? Stay?”
Barb sighed, pained. “I suppose I could’ve moved to a place that neither of us knew, then we’d be on equal footing. Both disoriented.”
Sharon scoffed. “No kid needs a disoriented mother.”
“Right, but . . .” Barb had to acknowledge the truth, which was less flattering. “But I really wanted to come home. I wanted to lick my wounds. I thought of myself.”
“Aw, honey, that’s okay.” Sharon made a sad face. “You’re allowed to take care of yourself. Brian was your husband. It was your marriage.”
“Still.” Barb felt a wave of guilt, then tried to shake it off. “Let’s get this mattress where it belongs.”
“Okay.” Sharon pushed, Barb pulled, and they reached the spare room at the end of the hallway, a small rectangle with a window. They dragged the mattress inside and let it flop on the floor, next to the metal frame. Sharon grinned. “We did it!”
“Thanks for the help.”
“Anytime.” Sharon gave her a big hug. “I’m proud of you.”
Suddenly Barb heard the door opening and closing downstairs. “Now he’s home?”
“Perfect timing.” Sharon laughed, and Barb led her into the hall and downstairs, where Kyle was dropping his keys into the basket on the hall table.
“Hi, Mom. Hi, Sharon!” Kyle smiled, looking up, with the dog dancing around his sneakers. He looked oddly happy, dressed in his oversized T-shirt and gym shorts, with his slides. Barb didn’t know why he was smiling so mysteriously.
“Good to see you, honey!” Sharon gave him a big hug, which he returned.
“Where were you?” Barb asked, intrigued.
“It’s a long story.” Kyle tried to avert his eyes, still smiling.
“I got time.” Barb folded her arms.
“So do I,” Sharon added slyly.
Kyle rolled his eyes, still smiling. “I put out the recycling and I saw a calico cat stuck in a tree, in front of the neighbor’s house. So I got it down and brought it to the owner.”
“You rescued a cat?” Barb asked, surprised. “That was a nice thing to do. How did you know who it belonged to?”
“It had a tag.”
“So where’s the owner live?”
“On Pinto Road.”
“The million-dollar houses.” Barb shot Sharon a meaningful glance.
Sharon winked. “Movin’ on up.”
Barb smiled. “Kyle, how did you get there with a cat?”
“I walked. How do you think I got there?”
Barb ignored his back talk. Kyle was hiding something, but it seemed good, not bad. “You walked all the way to Pinto Road? With a cat?”
Sharon looked incredulous. “A cat let you carry it around, just like that? A stranger? Hell, Felicia won’t even let me carry her. She bites me.”
Kyle rolled his eyes again, good-naturedly. “It was a friendly cat. I think it was scared from being in the tree. Why are you guys asking so many questions?”
Barb answered, “Why are you making us? Why don’t you just tell us what happened?”
“Agree, something else definitely happened.” Sharon turned to Kyle. “Honey, I’ve known you since you were born. I can tell by the look on your face. You can run, but you can’t hide.”
“Sheesh, all that happened was I returned a cat!” Kyle headed into the kitchen, but Sharon and Barb followed him.
Sharon asked, “Who did you return it to?”
“The owner.” Kyle went into the refrigerator, hiding his face.
“Who’s the owner?” Barb and Sharon asked in unison.
“A girl,” Kyle answered, but when he closed the refrigerator, his face was flushing.
“A girl!” Barb sensed they had struck pay dirt. “Your age?”
Sharon snorted. “Obviously! Is she pretty, Kyle? What’s her name?”
“Argh.” Kyle tried to get out of the kitchen, but Barb and Sharon blocked his path, like a Wall of Moms.
Sharon snorted. “Kyle, who is she?”
Kyle shook his head, exasperated. “Sasha Barrow.”
“Oh, yes!” Sharon burst into laughter. “She sounds foxy!”
“Kyle, that’s great!” Barb felt happy for him. She couldn’t remember the last time something good happened. “You met a pretty girl! Does she go to the high school? What grade?”
Sharon started clapping. “Did she thank you? Kyle and Sasha sitting in a tree K-I-S-S-I-N-G.”
“Good night, Sharon! Good night, Mom!” Kyle laughed, scooted between Barb and Sharon, and headed for the staircase with Buddy trotting behind him, tail awag.
Sharon kept singing, “Then comes Kyle Junior in the baby carriage!”
“Sleep tight!” Barb called to Kyle as he went upstairs, her heart light. If Kyle got a girlfriend, things were looking up. She couldn’t be happy unless he was, and now she had hope.
Sharon chuckled. “I think we handled that well, don’t you?”
CHAPTER 17
Linda Garvey
Linda Garvey gazed at her reflection in the bathroom mirror without recognizing herself. Her own eyes stared back at her, less blue than they used to be. She felt diluted, washed out. She’d cried herself away and now she was gone. She raked her fingers through her short hair, but her natural dark roots had taken over. She had new lines under her eyes, jowls, and cracks in the corners of her mouth. They were called laugh lines but she hadn’t laughed in forever. Suddenly she flashed on the last time she’d laughed.
Jill had asked for a sandwich, and Linda had run into the kitchen and made her favorite, Muenster cheese and tomato with mayo. Linda had brought the sandwich and a glass of homemade iced tea into the family room, but she’d tripped over the cat and dropped the plate. The sandwich fell open on the rug.
Well done, Mom! Jill had laughed.
Have a nice trip? Mark had laughed, too.
I’ll help! Allie had hurried over to unpeel the bread from the rug, and the cat had licked up the mayonnaise.
That was her secret plan! Jill had said, and they’d all laughed again.
Linda felt a stab of pain at the memory. She eyed the woman in the bathroom mirror, feeling weirdly separate from her. The therapist had talked about de-realization, where you felt like a cardboard cutout of yourself. Linda thought that she didn’t look like herself because she wasn’t herself. She hadn’t been back to the therapist in a while, and the therapist was calling to get her on the schedule, at least to check her meds, one of the messages had said.
Linda didn’t think that she needed therapy because what agonized her wasn’t losing Jill but everything that Jill had gone through, so much suffering every day. The pain that child had endured, the visits to the doctors, the needles, the tests, the struggle of Jill’s life, one that no child should have to endure, for life. For life. Linda knew that her pain was truly for her child, and now that Jill had died, only now could Linda allow herself to experience that pain. Because until now, Linda had been one hundred percent busy being everything that Jill needed, a mom, a nurse, a cheerleader, a therapist, a bestie, and now Linda could just kick out the jams and she finally had.
She blinked, and so did the woman in the mirror. She eyed her reflection, or whoever’s reflection it was, wondering how long she was going to feel this bad. She was sleeping so much these days. She tried to feel better but something kept pushing her back down again. She was too exhausted to live.
Her eyes teared up, and she leaned on the sink for support. She felt so much pain that she wished for another pill, even though they made her so useless. She didn’t know who she was if she wasn�
��t Jill’s mother. She couldn’t accomplish a single thing. She couldn’t even get out of bed. She barely washed or fed herself.
Tears blurred her vision, and she thought about Allie. She knew that helping Allie was beyond her. Mark would have to take care of Allie, and Linda could leave Allie to him for a little while longer, until she could get past this, or over it, or through it, or magically emerge on the other side, like herself, a mother to at least one daughter, the one left but lost.
“Lin, what are you doing?” Mark asked, appearing in the bathroom behind her in his T-shirt and boxers. He didn’t have his glasses on, and he blinked, squinting against the bright light.
“I woke up.” Linda looked at Mark blankly, trying to remember the last time she had really looked at him. Now he was looking at her like she was crazy.
“You’re naked.”
“I was asleep.”
“But the AC is on. It’s cold.”
“I’m fine.” Linda knew it was a ridiculous thing to say.
“It’s the middle of the night. Why are you up?”
“I woke up,” Linda repeated, since she couldn’t say why she slept or why she woke up anymore. “It’s nighttime, right?”
“Yes. It’s 4:17 A.M.”
Linda thought it was so like him. A precise man, super-reliable, and kind from the day they’d met in college. They had been leaving Wright Hall after Business Accounting. Funny she should remember that and she couldn’t remember so much else.
“Come back to bed.” Mark took her arm, and Linda allowed herself to be led into the bedroom, slipping into the cool darkness.
“How’s Allie? Is she okay?” Linda went to her side of the bed and sat down.
“She’s fine, don’t worry about a thing.”
“You’re taking care of her, right?” Linda needed to make sure, to hear him say it, to tell her.
“Of course.”
“I woke up before but you weren’t there.” Linda got the Valium bottle from the night table, shook one out, and drank from the water bottle. She eased down on her side, her head in the pillow, and Mark covered her with the sheet.
“I was at a meeting tonight, for Jill’s 5K. Remember, I told you, everyone’s excited about seeing you.”
Someone Knows Page 9
