The 8 Mistakes of Amy Maxwell

by Heather Balog

  When Walter starts to stir, he is confused and groggy and tries to sit up, but Jason prevents him from moving by straddling his legs and pressing them together with his ankles. Between the “attack” in the woods which Walter had staged earlier and his run in with the frying pan, Walter looks like an escaped mental patient.

  Within ten minutes, the back-up has arrived and Jason has finally untied me after mentioning that the ropes were not that tight after all. I have thanked Sean profusely, much to his chagrin. He has turned several shades of scarlet from the tips of his ears all the way down his neck. I’m quite certain his flushing extended well down his torso. He just shuffles his feet on the floor and mutters something about it not being a big deal. Just then, a thin, bearded and bespectacled man taps me on the shoulder.

  “Mrs. Maxwell?” he asks, his voice sounding much deeper than I would expect from such a timid looking man.

  I shrink back, suddenly wary of strangers.

  His face flushes and he stammers, “Um, I’m sorry to startle you. I’m Agent Doug North.” He offers me his birdlike hand and I shake it, still skeptical.

  “He’s okay,” Jason confirms, coming up from behind me and placing a protective hand on my shoulder.

  I cock my head to the side and offer him a smirk. “Are you sure? Because you told us Walter and Harding were okay, too.”

  And I am three for three on making the men blush because now Jason’s cheeks are pink. “Glad to see the last three days hasn’t affected your sarcastic sense of humor,” Jason mumbles.

  Three days? That’s all it was? I feel as if finding Mary’s body had happened three months ago, not days.

  I start to reply to Jason and then realize that he is deep in conversation with Agent North, periodically gesturing towards me and my daughter. Then, he offers me a hasty wave and a melancholy smile before he heads out the front door to show another agent where Harding’s body is.

  I stare at him, every part of my being wanting to chase after him. I don’t know why I feel like that and what’s more, I don’t know why I can’t move. My limbs are heavy and everything is hazy around me.

  Before we know it, Allie and I are in the back of a warm and dry Crown Vic, pulling away from the cabin. I must be in shock because I don’t remember changing into the dry clothes that I am now wearing or climbing into the back of the vehicle. I crane my neck as the car pulls down the driveway, hoping to catch a glimpse of Jason. But all I can see is the darkness. I press my fingers against my lips, desperately wishing I could feel the warmth of his lips from just a few short hours ago. I can’t believe that was today. Today has to be one of the most shocking days of my life.

  “I’m so glad I’m going to be home for my birthday,” Allie tells me. “Especially since it’s Friday the thirteenth. It would be crazy to be in the woods for Friday the thirteenth.”

  I kiss the top of my daughter’s head and murmur, “I’m glad, too.”

  Swallowing my tears, I lean back against the seat, Allie’s head on my shoulder as I finally drift off to sleep.

  ~TWENTY~

  “Mommmmmmmmmyyyyyyyy!” I try not to cringe as I hear Lexie squealing from the living room.

  Deep cleansing breaths, Amy. Remember what the shrink told you. Ignore the high pitched voice and just know it’s your daughter excited to share a discovery with you. Relish in her eagerness.

  “What’s the matter, Lex?” I ask as I finish folding the bath towel in my hand, resisting the urge to bite my fist. I’ve been working on not letting Lexie’s ramblings and high pitched squawks affect me, but damn, it’s difficult. But, hey, Rome wasn’t built in a day.

  “The new neighbors are moving in right nowww! They have a moving van and everything!”

  Lexie’s words hit me right in the solar plexus. Is that a real place? I don’t even know.

  The new neighbors.

  I haven’t even laid eyes on the Monroe family and I hate them already. Cammi Donoghue (who had the absolute audacity to remain in town after big Jimmy’s trial and conviction) was sure to give me a detailed report on the family that was moving in.

  The father was a psychology professor at the county college and the mother ran a quaint little tea room in the next town. They had two perfectly groomed tow-headed boys, who Cammi pointed out were well mannered and she would not hesitate to let her precious Jimmy play with them. When she had relayed this information to me over coffee that she had invited herself over for, I secretly hoped the Monroe boys would turn out to be evil demons and duct tape Jimmy to a tree outside. In the rain.

  From Cammi’s description of the Monroes, they sounded like people my sister Beth would love, but that was not even the reason I had gotten it in my head to despise them.

  The reason I hated them was because they were moving into the Sanders’ old house. Or rather, Mary Collins’ old house. And Jason and Sean had moved out.

  I part the bedroom curtains, just in time to see the moving van back into the driveway across the street. A car, very similar to the one that brought Allie and me back from the cabin, pulls up to the curb. Before the occupants climb out, I find myself reminiscing about the day Allie and I came home after our three day long ordeal.

  After our horrendous three days on the mountain, Allie and I arrived home to complete and utter chaos. I don’t just mean that the house was in shambles (it was), or that the kids looked like they belonged in a Dickens novel (they did…in fact it took me two days to scrape the dried macaroni and cheese off of the baby’s face). Roger and the kids were emotional wrecks.

  When Allie and I pulled up to our house in the wee hours of the morning that day, the house appeared quiet and peaceful. As we stepped out of the car, the front door flew open and like a dam bursting forth, five people rushed from the house. Completely blindsided and overwhelmed, I felt myself enveloped by ten arms and grabby hands, wet faces and sticky lips.

  There were tears and laughs and sighs of relief. My family pulled Allie and me into the house, my mother holding Allie out at arm’s length and telling her how much she grew, much to Allie’s dismay. Roger pulling me aside and squeezing me tightly, telling me I can never ever leave him again. Evan and Colt and Lexie, hugging their sister, telling her how much they missed her. And the coup de grace, my sister telling me she was exhausted from being me for three days.

  Evan had cried for “Mama” the first few hours and then he just wandered around sucking his thumb, with a dejected look on his face, according to Roger’s report. Colt was upset and hid himself away in his fort, much to his grandmother and Aunt Beth’s dismay. They couldn’t find him for nearly an hour, leading my mother to fear that he had been kidnapped. When they finally found him, curled up in a ball in the corner of his fort, they didn’t have the heart to wake him and scold him so they just left him there…overnight. (They claimed they put the monitor out there and there was an agent watching him in the fort, but I think they just forgot about him). Lexie followed her grandmother around like a lost puppy, bemoaning her situation and asking my mother questions about our disappearance that she had no answer for.

  By day three, my sister, the epitome of grace under pressure, was shaking and drinking wine by the gallon while sobbing continuously. My mother was mainlining coffee and chasing the kids around until she gave up and flopped onto the couch, letting the boys roam free and Lexie just prattle on in her ear.

  Across the street, the car doors are slamming, jolting me out of my reverie. I startle and find myself staring at a very scholarly looking man in a tweed suit. The kind with the pads at the elbows. His hair is swirling around his head, his obvious comb-over completely disheveled. He is wearing coke bottle glasses and even from my perch at the window, I can tell that his face is pockmarked from acne scars and he is slightly overweight. I sigh with relief.

  No more Jason Collins living across the street, I think to myself. No one to drool over and watch with my mouth open. That’s a relief.

  And then, my relief turns to dismay as I repeat, No more Jas
on Collins living across the street.

  I hadn’t seen him since the night at the cabin. Which was good. And depressing. We never got to talk about that kiss in the woods or what it meant. Which was also good, of course, but I couldn’t help feeling like an unresolved issue was swirling around me.

  There had been an inquest; Walter was being brought up on murder and attempted murder charges. Allie and I had been subpoenaed and my heart had skipped a beat. I thought maybe we would have run into Jason in court, so I carefully chose my outfit, changing my clothes about fifty-two times before leaving for the courthouse. But it was just me and Allie, our lawyer and a judge. We didn’t even see Walter that day, not that I wanted to. The judge took our statement and we were dismissed. He said we most likely would not have to go through the pain of testifying because Walter admitted to everything. In fact, he proudly confessed to his crime spree and his fifteen years as a member of the mafia.

  The doors slam again and I glance up to see a breathtakingly beautiful blonde bimbo, er, I mean woman, standing next to the car. Two perfectly coifed little boys wearing khakis and zipper down fleece jackets hop anxiously up and down on one foot on the sidewalk next to the woman as she offers them a plastic smile.

  I groan as I slap my forehead with my palm. Great, Cammi Donoghue on one side and this one across the street…there goes the neighborhood. I can just see Jason’s tongue hanging out of his mouth when he caught a glimpse of the bimbo.

  Wait. Did I just say Jason? Oh crap. I meant Roger. Damn it, damn it, damn it. There’s no more Jason, Amy.

  The “incident” had been nearly six months ago. A lot has happened in those six months. Allie has been less distant. Of course, she is still the same old bitchy, snarky teenager from before, but every once in a while, that tough exterior cracks and I get a glimpse of my sweet, thoughtful and loving baby girl underneath. Don’t tell anyone, but she started sending me texts every night that say, “Night night, Mommy XOXO”. No matter if we scream or shout or curse at each other that day, I still get the text. I always send her one back that says “Sweet dreams, baby girl XOXO”, and I leave it at that. I have not shown them to anyone or even mentioned it to Allie; I would hate for her to stop because she’s embarrassed.

  Laura and Kaitlyn came over for a long overdue chat and we all shared a group hug (after some screaming) and promised not to let Victoria come in between our friendships again.

  Roger agreed to accompany me to counseling after I got home; he thought it was just for me to adjust to the traumatic incident that I had just undergone, but it was really marriage counseling. We have been doing surprisingly well, taking one night every single week to have a “date” night. The kids stay with my mother or my sister, who have both volunteered to get more involved and help me out once in a blue moon. My sister even gave me a gift certificate for her posh salon for Christmas and watched the kids for me when I went to have my hair done.

  Colt has not had any more problems in school. He and Jimmy Donoghue are now in separate classes after their fight. Colt made a new best friend, Charlie. Charlie is a girl, but she gives Colt a run for his money. He was thrilled to find out that she has a fort and also loves to eat worms, too. I’m pretty sure she could beat the crap out of him if necessary. I see a romance blossoming in the future; she’s definitely wife material.

  Sean and Jason have not been back to the house. I saw a moving van and a few guys carrying out boxes and some furniture a few weeks ago. Right after the For Sale sign had gone up. I guess Jason had someone pack up the house for them, whatever belongings they wanted to bring with them to wherever they were going next.

  Sean has called Colt a few times, but Colt isn’t exactly a phone kind of kid. Surprisingly, Allie ended up talking to him for over an hour the last time he called. I think I overheard something about them going to a movie together. A horror movie about kids trapped in a cabin in the woods.

  “Mommy!” Lexie is shrieking, her cries coming closer by the second. I can tell she is taking the steps two at a time.

  “In here, Lex!” I call out to her, cringing because I can tell she is dangerously close to Evan’s room and I’ve just managed to get him down for a nap.

  The door is flung open and my gregarious child pounces into the room. “Can I go say hi to the new kids across the street? Mrs. Donoghue said that they are eight and ten. I’m ten, too,” she informs me in case I missed that fact, like I have been hiding under a rock for the past ten years or something.

  “I guess so…” I start to say as she bounds out of the room without letting me finish.

  “Thanks, Mom!” she calls over her shoulder.

  “Lexie! Wait!” I call after her just as I hear Evan start to stir in his room.

  Damn it! I can’t let her dash across the street by herself! The street isn’t busy, but Lexie has no idea how to look both ways…

  I hear the front door slam and I shout to Allie who is barricaded in her room as usual, “Allie, watch your brothers! I have to walk Lexie across the street.” I leap down the steps, seriously considering that I have possibly dislocated my ankle, and dash out the front door just in time to see Lexie reach the other side of the street.

  I sigh with relief as I realize, well, she is ten. I guess it’s not unreasonable to think a ten year old can cross a quiet side street without assistance.

  I stare at my daughter as she bounds up the steps and happily knocks on the front door, not a care in the world. The blonde woman answers the door and peers down at Lexie, offering her a fake smile. I can see Lexie gesturing wildly in the air and then turning to point at me, hovering on our front steps.

  Oh crap, don’t call attention to me, Lexie! It is 1:00 in the afternoon, but the kids are on spring break and Roger is golfing with fellow principal buddies. I’ve been doing some spring cleaning all morning because I have the extra kids at home to help out with the baby, so I haven’t bothered to clean myself up or run a brush through my hair. Hell, I think I slept in these sweats last night, now that I think about it.

  I wave half-heartedly and the woman waves back…enthusiastically, I might add. I cringe that she’s seen me in this attire, but I can’t help thinking that maybe she isn’t as bad as I thought she’d be. I step toward the curb to speak to her, wishing I had made cookies or something to bring over as a house warming gift.

  I wave to the new neighbor as I rock my feet on the edge of the curb, not daring to step off and cross the street in the state I’m in. Maybe she has vision problems and can’t tell I’m a hot mess from thirty feet away. It reminds me of how I used to speak with Mary every morning. Poor Mary. She never even had funeral services. Jason had her cremated in a private service. We found out about it a few weeks later while perusing the obituaries in the Sunday paper. Roger always reads the obits to make sure he’s not in them. Yes, I know, I married a very strange man.

  “Hi!” I call out. “Amy Maxwell! That was my daughter, Lexie. Sorry about her,” I remark as I indicate Lexie who has dashed into the backyard and out of sight. “She saw the moving van and she wanted to meet the kids-”

  The woman dismissed my apology with a wave. “Oh, it’s perfectly fine! They’re chasing the dog around the backyard right now. Tormenting her, in fact.”

  “Are you sure you don’t mind?” I inquire again after a pick-up truck chugs down the road at twelve miles an hour. “I’m sure you have so much to do.”

  “Not at all,” she answers with a smile that seems genuine. “Besides, the boys will stay out of my hair if there’s another kid to entertain them, if you know what I mean.”

  I nod with understanding. I certainly do know what she means.

  “Ok, well, be sure to kick her out when she becomes a pest,” I reply as I start to turn around. Then I suddenly remember my manners that my mother had always drilled into my head. “Oh, and maybe tomorrow the boys can come play over our house. The kids are off all week.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” the woman shouts over the sound of a motorcycle whizzi
ng down the block. “Oh, and I forgot! My name’s Mary! Mary Monroe!”

  I stand rooted to the sidewalk, not sure how I feel about the new owner of the house having the same name as the woman I had found viciously murdered in the very same living room six months before. But I manage my hand and offer a parting wave, “It’s nice to meet you, Mary.” And I think I meant it.

  I hear the neighbor’s front door closing as I head back towards my own house, hoping that Allie is indeed watching Evan while simultaneously wondering what to order out for dinner. Hey, I’ve been busting my butt cleaning all day, I certainly wasn’t going to mess up the sparkling clean kitchen, was I?

  I notice a weed growing out of the sidewalk as I approach the front walk, so I bend down to rip it out. I really need to get on Roger about weeding more or at least hiring a landscaper, I am thinking as I discover many more tiny pesky weeds creeping out of the cracks. It’s almost cathartic, ripping those unwanted suckers out by their roots. Soon I find that I’ve been weeding for quite some time. My ADD has gotten the best of me. Allie has been outside to tell me that Evan was sleeping but now he’s awake and Lexie has even raced past me a while ago, done playing with the neighbors.

  I stand up to stretch my back when I hear a car door slam behind me and thinking that it is Roger, home from golfing, I brush the dirt off my knees and whirl around to greet my husband. I almost fall back onto the ground from shock. It is like I have seen a real life, living, breathing ghost.

  Ambling up my front walk is none other than Jason Collins.

  His hair is a little grayer and rumpled than I recall it, his face seems older and more drawn. He’s wearing a suit, so I can only imagine the biceps and pecs underneath. He has the gait of someone who is tired and worn out. I can tell that he has aged significantly in the past six months.