A Good Marriage

by Kimberly McCreight

  Come on, Zach, seriously?

  I typed the name of the street corner where Zach had been loitering into Google Maps. Sure enough, there was the blue dot on the corner of an alley tucked behind The Rittenhouse, the fancy building where that med school party was held. Zach had been arrested because he refused to leave a spot where he’d been waiting, watching for me? I wondered for a moment if Zach had been there, in the shadows, watching as Sam and I kissed for the first time. What would have happened if the police hadn’t made Zach move along?

  I shuddered as I put down the warrant papers and picked up Millie’s investigation file. I turned to the fingerprint results and the close-up images of that bloody print Millie had taken the night I first called her. It looked so innocuous in these photos—a swirled pattern in a brownish red barely visible on the dark metal. But there were other, more vivid photographs taken from a few paces back, ones of the blood-soaked stairs and the walls that told a much more terrifying story.

  Such violence in an otherwise empty room. So much blood in so many places. The force it would have taken. The rage.

  Zach. It wasn’t impossible.

  Behind the crime scene photos and the fingerprint analysis, there were internet searches, old printouts about Zach from ZAG, Inc.’s website, information on the Hope First Initiative, and maps of the neighborhood, but nothing about Zach’s new company, as far as I could tell. There were also notes in Millie’s handwriting. It seemed she’d gotten at least one of the patrol officers to talk to her. “Off the record” she’d scrawled at the top in big letters, probably to humor him. It was a list of who they had spoken to and when. “7/2 Party Guests,” followed by a list of names.

  I flipped through more of the pages in the file, my eyes catching on a preliminary medical examiner’s report (blunt force trauma) that Millie and Vinnie definitely had no legitimate business possessing. There was a time of death estimate, between 10:00 p.m. and 11:00 p.m. on Thursday, July 2. July 2 was a Thursday? I’d assumed the party had been Friday or Saturday night. But Friday, July 3, was a legal holiday because the Fourth of July fell on a Saturday, making a wild Thursday-night party possible. With the holiday, Zach’s arraignment could easily have been delayed until Monday.

  The party had been on a Thursday. Last Thursday.

  The same awful night Sam had his blackout.

  I forced myself to focus as I flipped more quickly through the rest of the pages, pausing on a personal items inventory, also from the medical examiner’s office. It was a list of the clothing and personal belongings Amanda had on her the night she died, alongside a photograph of each item. “Two black YSL sandals, one pair white jeans, one white top, silver Cartier watch, one silver earring.” I turned to the next document—the fingerprint analysis. The blood whooshing in my ears was deafening. But wait, no—

  I flipped back a page. One silver earring. My hands were shaking so hard, it was difficult to make out the image in the photograph.

  But there it was: long and thin and shimmering silver. I’d seen the earring before. Of course I had. Or its twin, coiled like a snake in the palm of my hand.

  I flashed back to Sam as I’d found him that Friday morning in our living room: he’d been covered in blood; his hands, his shirt. So frightening—my husband hurt. My husband covered in blood.

  I jumped up. I only made it a single step before I threw up all over our hardwood floor.

  Grand Jury Testimony

  JESSICA KIM,

  called as a witness the 8th of July and was examined and testified as follows:

  EXAMINATION

  BY MS. WALLACE:

  Q: Ms. Kim, thank you for testifying.

  A: Yeah, um, sure.

  Q: You seem nervous.

  A: I am. This whole thing is making me nervous.

  Q: You don’t need to worry. You’re not the subject of any criminal investigation.

  A: I’m not nervous about that. I didn’t do anything illegal. But I’ve heard what you’re doing in here. I have friends who have testified. We all know each other. You’re trying to embarrass us.

  Q: Perhaps we should move on.

  A: Yes. Let’s do that.

  Q: Were you at the party at 724 First Street on July 2nd of this year?

  A: Yes. I was.

  Q: And how did you come to be invited?

  A: Like everyone else, I received an invitation. That is generally how it works.

  Q: How do you know Maude and Sebe Lagueux?

  A: My children go to Country Day. But we got to know Maude when we bought some pieces of art from her.

  Q: Who is we?

  A: My husband David and I.

  Q: Was David at the party that night as well?

  A: He was. Should I save you the trouble of drawing out what you’re definitely after? Yes, I fucked somebody that night who was not my husband. And, yes, my husband knew about it. And, no, I don’t think he fucked somebody. Though he may have if he found that dad he has a crush on. Honestly, we’ve gone to this party six years running, and we don’t ask each other afterward for details. And we like it that way. However, we don’t pee in front of each other. So there you go. I guess every couple sets their own limits.

  Q: Did you see Amanda Grayson as you were headed upstairs the night of the party?

  A: (Inaudible.)

  Q: I’m sorry, I couldn’t hear what you said.

  A: I saw a woman going up the stairs.

  Q: Is this the woman you saw on the stairs?

  (Counsel approaches witness with photograph, which was previously marked as People’s Exhibit 6.)

  A: Yes.

  Q: Let the record reflect that the witness has identified Amanda Grayson as the woman she saw on the stairs. What time was that?

  A: I don’t know exactly.

  Q: Could you estimate?

  A: Um, let’s see. I guess around 9:30 p.m. probably.

  Q: Did anyone go upstairs at this Sleepaway Soiree for any purpose other than sex?

  A: I doubt it.

  Q: Why not?

  A: Because it would have been confusing. People who weren’t interested tended to stay far away from the stairs. That way it was clear.

  Q: So Amanda Grayson headed to the upstairs of the party?

  A: Yes. But I don’t know if she went all the way up. I don’t have the faintest idea what happened to her after I saw her on the stairs.

  Q: Yes, you do, Ms. Kim. You know exactly what happened to her. She ended up dead.

  Amanda

  THE PARTY

  Amanda was actually feeling pretty good as she dressed for Maude and Sebe’s party, better than she had in days. There had been two hang-ups only hours earlier, and the following in the park, not to mention everything with Carolyn, but right now she was preparing to tell Zach about all of it. Or at least some of it. Also, she might not start with her dad. But that was okay. Speaking up with Zach, changing things, was going to be a process.

  Besides, she’d said something already. Hadn’t she? She’d demanded that Zach go to the party with her. And he was going. Amanda was pleased about that as she pulled on her white capri jeans and off-the-shoulder ruffled top, slipped her feet into black wedge sandals, and pulled her hair into a high ponytail. The long silver earrings, too, nice but not overdone. It was the right outfit for that party, finally.

  Of course, when they were still not speaking as they descended their brownstone steps, the satisfaction of asking Zach to come had been replaced by the reality of getting what she’d wanted. She and her husband were awkward strangers. That was their reality. This was not news, but it chafed now more than it ever had.

  As Amanda and Zach walked up tree-lined Montgomery Place, past all the meticulous brownstones, Amanda kept thinking they should at least be chitchatting. But everything she thought to say felt wrong. When you’ve been married for eleven years, resorting to a conversation about the rising humidity was humiliating. And so they were left with silence.

  And right now, all that quiet w
as making Amanda want to scream.

  She glanced over at Zach, who was smiling slightly as they turned right onto the busier, two-lane Prospect Park West. He almost looked handsome in his white linen shirt and perfectly worn designer jeans. Strangely pleased, too, for someone who hated parties, and people. Amanda looked away, across the street to where a man was jogging alone in the bike lane and a small older woman was walking an enormous white dog. Up ahead on their side of the street, it was empty and dark except for the squares of light cast by the entrances of the larger buildings that overlooked the park.

  And then Zach started to whistle. Why was he whistling? Nothing her husband did made any sense to her. It was much worse than his silence, though. Depressing, actually. This conversation would not have a happy ending, would it? Zach wasn’t going to suddenly be the husband she wanted—attentive and loving. People didn’t just change because you wanted them to. But Amanda had to at least tell Zach about her dad. If not to protect herself, then to protect her son. If Zach got angry, so be it. Amanda wasn’t sure she cared anymore what he did.

  “Yes, I had a great day today. Thank you so much for asking,” Zach said sarcastically as they passed the intersection of Prospect Park West and Garfield. “Things at work are finally looking up. Way up.”

  “That’s good … What does your new company even do?” Amanda asked. This hadn’t been where she’d planned to start—but maybe it was as good a place as any. “I don’t even know, and I think I should. I’m your wife.”

  “You want to know about my business, huh?” Zach asked, seeming amused. “You want me to break down its capital formation plan or its strategic plan?”

  “I just want to know what you do all day.”

  “The details would bore you to death, trust me, but it’ll make us a lot richer once I get it right. As usual with these things, it was the engineering that almost did us in. People, boards especially, don’t realize how important those technical details are. But thanks to my own creative thinking, it’s finally sorted out. Beta testing. That’s the key.”

  “It doesn’t sound boring. I wish you’d told me about the problems,” Amanda said. “Maybe I could have, I don’t know, helped.”

  “I didn’t realize you were a software engineer.” Zach laughed. “Next time I will come right to you.”

  Amanda balled her hands into fists. “I’m your wife.”

  “What does that have to do with anything?”

  She stopped walking. “It’s supposed to have something to do with everything.”

  “You know your problem, Amanda?” Zach stopped a few paces ahead. “You’ve always overestimated the value of human connection. I’m not saying connections don’t matter. That’s all ZAG was about: connecting people with the things they’ve bought, the life they want. It’s a billion-dollar concept. But connections between people? You ask me, they just create more problems. That’s what my new company is about.”

  He seemed so pleased with himself as he turned his back on her and began to walk again.

  Amanda didn’t move. Her eyes burned as she stared after her husband. Forgiveness is a side effect of love. Sebe was right about that. The truth was, she didn’t forgive her husband his limitations. Because whatever was between Zach and Amanda had nothing to do with love. But it had produced one thing that Amanda did love, more than anything: Case. Amanda had failed him by letting Zach move them to Park Slope for some business she didn’t even know about. But she would do now what she had to, to protect her son.

  “Wait!” Amanda called after Zach, jogging to catch up. “I’ve been meaning to—we have to talk about Case. The move was too hard on him. I think he really struggled at Country Day at the end of the year. That’s not like him.”

  “Struggled? Since when?” Zach scoffed. “For the amount of money we’re paying that school, I sure as hell hope they’d notify us if they thought he was struggling.”

  “Didn’t they notify you?”

  “Me?” Zach asked. “Why would they notify me?”

  “The school has your email, too.”

  “They sure as hell do not,” he said. “You know how I feel about that. Might as well give everyone the keys to your front door. Speaking of which, I thought you were going to get our alarm fixed, and that damn closet door in my office is still sticking.”

  There it was. That was all Amanda was to Zach. Another employee.

  “They’re coming next week to fix the door and the alarm,” she said numbly.

  And there she was: doing her job, the one that Zach could fire her from at any time. He could probably even take Case if he decided to leave her—or if she had the guts to leave him. After all, she was an unemployed high-school dropout. How stupid she had been. She couldn’t possibly tell Zach about her dad. What if he later tried to use it against her? Like in some kind of custody battle. Such a thing would already be a nightmare—Amanda had signed a draconian (the lawyer had quietly told her) prenuptial agreement. And Zach believed, maybe above all else, in vengeance. No, there was no way she could tell him about her dad.

  “Whose house is this we’re going to again?” Zach asked as they approached the intersection of First Street and passed a group of cackling teens.

  Zach liked to be prepared. That way he could pretend to be charming. He was good at it, provided there was something in it for him and it was for a limited period of time. Because Zach was only acting like a normal person, and that took effort. In the end, maybe it was only this that he and Amanda had in common: the pretending.

  “It’s Maude’s party. She owns a gallery. Her husband, Sebe, is a doctor,” Amanda said, trying to ignore the singed feeling in her chest. “Their daughter goes to Country Day, but she’s older than Case. She’s been having a hard time lately.”

  Amanda wasn’t even sure why she’d added that, but to her surprise Zach slowed and looked at her, intrigued.

  “What hard time?” he asked. Amanda didn’t like the idea of violating Maude’s confidence by telling Zach about Sophia. But on the rare occasion Zach did get interested in something, he’d sink his teeth in until he’d drawn blood. She’d be better off telling him something. At least the gossip would stop with him. He had no friends to share it with.

  “Her daughter did something she regrets.”

  “What’s that?” Zach asked, with a weird, laserlike focus.

  “Some compromising photos, I guess,” Amanda said. “A teenage thing.”

  “Oh.” Zach pulled his chin back and let out an exasperated huff as he finally walked on toward First Street. “There’s no accounting for stupidity.”

  From the corner of Prospect Park West and First Street, Amanda could already hear giddy laughter and music floating up from Maude and Sebe’s backyard and filling the warm summer night. She closed her eyes for a moment and breathed in the distant sounds of joy.

  “People are always worried about the wrong things—their bank accounts or their credit cards,” Zach went on, as if Amanda had asked. “No one thinks about the things that really make them vulnerable. That’s why I’m so careful about our information. That’s also why I’ve succeeded in business. I’ve always known what people need before they do.”

  What an asshole her husband was. There really wasn’t anything more to it than that.

  Just then a couple stumbled out Maude’s front door, laughing hysterically. They were a bit older than Zach and a lot older than Amanda, early fifties maybe. But they were attractive and fit and also very visibly tipsy. The woman had a hand over her mouth, and the man was flushed, and they were both laughing so hard they were gasping for breath. They each wore several leis, and the man had a huge beach ball squeezed under his arm.

  “Stop, stop, stop,” the woman giggled to her husband.

  “Come on,” her husband hissed. “Pull it together. Or we’ll never get out of here with this ball.”

  They glanced in Amanda and Zach’s direction before feigning sobriety and making their way unevenly down the steps and onward towar
d Seventh Avenue. It wasn’t until seeing the couple that Amanda even remembered the “upstairs.” What if some unwitting party guest ended up explaining that to Zach? Talk about “risky connections.” Zach might tell everyone how dumb he thought they were right to their faces. Because Zach believed his opinions were facts, he never hesitated to deliver them directly. The truth, he believed, could never be insulting.

  “There’s something you need to know before we go in,” Amanda said when Zach started toward the stairs with that noticeable gleam in his eye. “They, um, have an upstairs.”

  Zach looked up at the four-floor brownstone. “I can see that.”

  “No, I mean, they … swap partners. Upstairs,” she blurted out. “Not everybody. Not even most people, I don’t think. Only if you want. I mean, if somebody wants. Not you. I didn’t mean that.” She was blushing now. “I’m only telling you so you’re aware. It’s not a big deal.”

  “Not a big deal?” Zach laughed. Hard and for about a minute. His face was flushed and he was pitched forward. “That’s truly hilarious,” he said, sighing to a stop. He looked up at the house for a moment more. “These people are full of … stupidity. Speaking of which, make sure you don’t tell anyone anything about the new company. I don’t want word of it getting out early and ruining the announcement.” He pointed a finger in Amanda’s face. “You wanted me to trust you, and I have. Don’t fuck it up.”

  With that, Zach continued on up the steps. And Amanda was left standing there alone on the sidewalk, thinking about all the things a husband might have said at that moment to a wife when faced with the prospect of entering a sex party together. Things like: We should talk about this. What are our rules? We’re not doing that, right? Huh, what do we think?

  They could have giggled together. They could have wondered. They could have been two people who shared in everything, even the unknown. But not Amanda and Zach.