by Kelly Utt
There was a moment of silence as Bea and Max held each other and everyone else looked on, touched by the love between this mother and son. The two of them had a connection that other people wished for. It was a bond that could not be broken. Not by school bullies, not by John, and not even by a physical separation should Bea be arrested. Deep down, Bea knew she and her son would remain close no matter what happened. Her relationship with Max was the best part of her life.
Suddenly, Max noticed Travis.
“Who’s this?” Max asked. His expression was one of curiosity. It almost seemed like he recognized Travis.
Could he remember? It was such a long time ago. He was so little.
The adults in the room looked at each other, unsure how to answer. Travis smiled, a look of excitement on his face. He was eager to be officially introduced to Max now that the boy was older. He wanted both Max and Bea to be a prominent and permanent part of his life.
“I’m Travis. Travis Earl. Pleased to meet you, Max.” Travis extended his hand towards the boy.
“Hello,” Max said politely to Travis. Then he turned to Bea. “Mom, have I met this guy before? He looks familiar.”
Bea’s eyes grew wide as she contemplated the best response. For years, she had worried about exactly what Max had seen the night of the incident. She had wondered if it would negatively affect him. She had wondered if it would mess him up. That was the last thing she wanted. Even if Max hadn’t seen Bea hit the man in the head with a baseball bat, he had certainly experienced terror that night. They say kids are resilient. But they also say childhood trauma can have adverse effects that last for an entire lifetime. Bea cursed the vile man who had brought trauma to her son’s childhood. Damn him.
At several points, Bea had thought about taking her son to see a child psychologist. Every sign that hinted at a potential issue with Max’s development had thrust Bea into a panic. Common childhood occurrences like wetting the bed once in a while or pretending to talk like a baby had caused Bea great concern. In fact, she would have taken Max to a psychologist if she hadn’t feared what he might report. She had ultimately decided taking him to see someone was too risky.
In place of seeking professional help, Bea had done her own research on child development. She knew she wasn’t qualified to really help Max, not like a professional could, anyway. But she figured she’d learn and do her best. It was another thing she had spent her time on while John was at work and Max was at school. Just like the letters and videos she created and stashed in the attic in the event of her arrest. Based on everything she’d read, she thought Max was doing okay. But even after years of research, her knowledge was limited. At least she felt like she was doing something.
A myriad of potential issues flash through Bea’s mind as Max looked at her expectantly. This statistics for children of divorce were troubling. And the same for children of a mentally ill parent. Would she and John split up? Would she be diagnosed with a mental illness given her apparent inability to handle the stress? The statistics for children who’d had an incarcerated parent were the worst of all.
“Travis owns a furniture store down by the bay,” Bea said, trying to put the rest out of her mind.
“Yeah, I build the furniture myself,” Travis added proudly.
“That might be why he looks familiar, Max,” Bea said. “We bought some furniture he made when you were little. Our big dining room table and several side tables in the house are from Travis’ store. Maybe you remember going with me when I picked them out.”
“Right!” Travis said, more excited now.
Max nodded his understanding as he continued to sort through memories. He squinted his eyes and put one hand on his chin as he thought.
The mood in the room was still tense, but Bea thought maybe they were over the hump and that she would get through her school visit without any major upsets beyond what had already happened. She let out a deep breath she had been holding and relaxed back onto the board beneath her as the medics finished their final preparations to transport her to the hospital. They were moving slowly, which Bea took as a good sign.
Max stood beside his mother and seemed content with her explanation until suddenly his jaw dropped and he looked like he might cry. Bea turned to see what he was looking at. To her horror, John was rushing Travis from behind, one arm positioned to wrap around his unsuspecting neck.
19
John’s attack landed on the back of Travis’ head with a thud. He gave it all he could.
“You bastard!” John yelled as the force of his weight knocked Travis off his feet and took him to the ground. “It all makes sense now. You were sleeping with my wife! Are sleeping with my wife! How dare you? Who the hell do you think you are?” He sounded like a madman, ranting as he flailed around.
Travis was younger, bigger, and stronger. John probably wouldn’t have mounted an attack face on. Coming from the back and using the element of surprise was the only way for John to have gotten a leg up on his formidable opponent. As the two of them hit the floor together, John used his fists to pommel the back of Travis’ head. Disoriented, Travis looked around to get his bearings. “Hey now, John!” he shouted. “Take it easy.” It was obvious Travis never expected John to make such a bold move. But it only took a minute for Travis to turn the tables.
In what looked like an effortless maneuver, Travis reached one arm around, wrapping it across John’s back. Then using his other arm and his toes to lift himself off the ground with John still on his back, he flipped over, causing John to lose his grip. Travis had moves like a wrestler. He was agile and limber. Even when it looked like he was pinned and at a disadvantage, he knew exactly how to pivot to regain control. John was sent flying backwards while Travis sprung to his feet.
“Dad!” Max cried. “Why are you doing this? You’re scaring me.”
Max’s face was stoic, even as the emotion threatened to burst out at the seams. He was doing his best to handle the disturbance like a young man instead of a boy. Bea was at a loss for words, but she pulled her son to her and held him as he cried, the young man giving in to the force of his feelings. Bea had been afraid of what might happen with her two beaus in the same room, but was still surprised to see this skirmish taking place. She had hoped things wouldn’t get any crazier.
The male medic pulled a radio from his belt and called for police backup. He didn’t wait to ask before doing so, which was unnerving for Bea. It felt like things were happening around her she couldn’t control. Like an inevitable chain of events had been set in place that— for better or worse— had to play themselves out. She hated what John was doing to Travis. She hated what he was doing to their family. She just wanted peace in her life.
Is that really too much to ask?
Travis went silent and Bea couldn’t get a read on him. She wasn’t sure if he was angry or whether he just felt sorry for John. She had never seen Travis in this type of predicament, so she wasn’t sure how he would react. He held the power. He could have returned John’s attack and easily beaten the older man. But so far, it looked like he was only defending himself, careful not to injure his adversary in the process. Bea appreciated the example Travis was setting for Max. If her son couldn’t count on his dad to keep it together, at least he was witnessing a good man who could.
John, on the other hand, was coming unglued. His volatility was increasing. He apparently wasn’t able to control his temper anymore. Bea wasn’t sure what was going on with him, but she decided right then and there that she and Max would not stick around to figure it out. A small part of Bea appreciated the fact that John was feeling protective of her and jealous of Travis. But he had been so cold and distant for so many years that it was too little, too late. Not to mention, this wasn’t the right way to show it.
Time seemed to slow as a flurry of activity happened in the school office. Jenny, Michael, and Annie positioned themselves in different parts of the room as if they were breaking up a juvenile fight in the cafeteria. They stood,
arms crossed or hands on hips, and made it clear they weren’t going to allow this melodrama on their watch. John retreated to the other side of the room, where he continued to shout insults about Travis and Bea as he licked his wounds. Apparently, he had injured his back during the onslaught because he was hunched over and holding onto it. Max continued to cry. All while the medics finished their job of getting Bea prepped for transport. She didn’t want to let go of Max, but the medics insisted there was no room for him to ride in the back of the ambulance with her to the hospital. Jenny promised to see to it that Max was taken care of.
“Who can I call?” Jenny asked.
“Mom!” Max pleaded. “I want to go with you!”
“I’m so sorry, son,” Bea said tearfully. She hardly had the energy to explain. Something was happening to her physically, although she didn’t understand what.
Jenny told the medics to wait a minute, then went to her computer and pulled up Max’s emergency contact information. “Lana Denton is listed here first. Your grandmother, right, Max?”
“Grandma is out of town,” Max cried. “I want to go with my mom.”
“He’s right,” Bea added. “My mother is in Sacramento with my sisters today… After what happened last night.” Bea didn’t bother to look at John as she said it. She tried to tune out his presence and pretend like he wasn’t even in the room. She wished he wasn’t in the room.
“Don’t worry,” Jenny said, talking quickly to settle arrangements before Bea had to leave. “How about Gabrielle Radnor? I see her listed here as a family friend.”
“Yes!” Bea confirmed, louder than anything else she’d said. “Gabby is my best friend. Max will be safe with her. She’ll come right away to pick him up.”
Max was satisfied with that decision. He had grown up thinking of Gabby as an honorary aunt. He knew she’d take good care of him. Besides, Gabby was confident and assertive when she needed to be. Max knew he wouldn’t have to watch over her like he did his mom. She was more than capable of taking care of herself. Although he couldn’t articulate the differences, he looked forward to Gabby’s involvement in his family’s situation. Maybe she would know what to do to get them out of this mess. “Okay,” Max said to Bea. “I’ll be okay with Aunt Gabby.”
“Good, then it’s settled,” Jenny confirmed. She stood and walked over to put her arm around Max’s shoulders. She knew the police would arrive any minute to deal with John, and she wanted the boy to feel supported. It had been a difficult few days for him. As Jenny bid goodbye to Bea, she leaned down and gave her a warning.
“Mrs. Hughes,” Jenny began. “I want you to know something. When I played that video, I was looking right at your husband. He wasn’t surprised to hear what the hooded figure had to say.”
“What?” Bea asked, confused.
“I’m telling you, I saw John’s face,” Jenny repeated, whispering so Max wouldn’t hear. “Your husband already knew. Be safe, please. You could be in danger. And call Dr. Duffie for advice, will you?”
Bea promised she would as the medics lifted her onto a wheeled stretcher, then rolled her out of the building. She was relieved to be leaving the chaotic scene in the office until, to her shock, she emerged through the double doors to find that a small crowd had gathered in front of the school. Bea didn’t recognize any of their faces, but their presence made her heart pound. A few of them were holding up smartphones, taking her photo and recording video.
What are they doing here? Do they know? Does everyone know?
As the sunshine hit her face and the breeze lifted strands of her dark hair, Bea’s senses began to dull. She suddenly grew sleepy and out of sorts. Once again, everything went black.
20
The man behind the robotic voice smiled as he stood casually in the parking lot of East Valley High School and watched Bea Hughes be taken away in an ambulance. He had just treated himself to a nice ham and egg breakfast at Lorraine’s Diner and was feeling extra proud of himself that day. He held his smartphone up high and without an ounce of shame as he recorded the scene. Thanks to his extensive IT expertise, he knew no one could positively identify him. He’d include this footage in his next video.
He had toyed with the idea of using a Guy Fawkes mask, when he appeared on camera, like the hactivist group known as Anonymous. He admired the group’s boldness and refusal to cave on their principals. But he hadn’t wanted to steal their thunder or anger them by being a copycat, so he’d opted for a simple hoodie overtop a black ski mask with low lighting and a voice changer. It did the trick. Besides, he wasn’t the one committing a crime. At least not yet.
He was a good guy. A whistleblower. He was bringing a wrong to light. And when it benefitted him personally, even better. He knew he wouldn’t get the praise he deserved from the public. But he could live with obscurity for the time being. It was too important that he remain anonymous if he wanted to accomplish his ultimate goal.
He felt pleased with himself that a tweet from the new account he’d created had been enough to gather a crowd of this size in the small town of Rosemary Run during the middle of a workday. He did a quick headcount and determined that thirty-three people stood with him. That made thirty-four including himself and thirty-six if he counted the medics. Thirty-eight, he thought as a police car arrived on the scene driven by Officer James Tatum. A young female deputy rode in the passenger seat. He made a note to learn her name. He might want to use it.
For a moment, he closed his eyes and imagined what it would feel like once this was all over and he got everything he wanted. He’d been waiting for so long. He thought about how it wasn’t fair that John and Bea Hughes lived an enchanted life in the public eye, complete with a big, beautiful house and a doting son. He wanted what they had. He wanted to live in that big house on the hill. He wanted to be in the public eye, admired by the town’s people. He even wanted to be a parent. In his early forties, he was tired of waiting for his life to begin. He was tired of being told he had to stay in the shadows and that he wasn’t good enough to be brought out into the light because of what he was. Because of what they were.
Now, finally, he was taking matters into his own hands.
21
When Bea came to this time, she found herself in a hospital room. A clock ticked quietly on the wall and an IV machine hummed gently beside her. The light was low in the sky, barely visible out the window. Bea panicked.
“How long was I out?” she asked, to no one in particular.
“I don’t know for sure,” Lana replied from the other side of the bed. “But I suspect it’s been six or seven hours. The nurse said they’d given you a sedative.”
Bea startled. “Mom? What are you doing here?”
“My girl is in the hospital. Where else would I be?”
Bea smiled, but her head throbbed when she moved to sit up too quickly. “Ouch,” she mumbled. “So… how did you get here?”
“I borrowed Natalie’s car and drove. Lean back and rest,” Lana instructed. “You’ve had a tough time of it lately.”
Bea did as she was told. She didn’t want to inconvenience Lana, but was glad she was here. It was silly, but Bea had always wanted her mom when she wasn’t feeling well.
Berryhill Community Medical Center was located in a neighboring town near the bay and Travis’ furniture shop. The last time Bea had been here, her dad was sick. She had successfully avoided the place ever since, even opting for a home birth when Max made his entrance into the world. She remembered that the views out every window were stunning, but they didn’t make up for the sad memories being in the building brought back. Even the smells went through Bea like lightning rods, returning her to painful times. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply to get her bearings.
A pretty Latina nurse with her hair cut into a stylish bob noticed Bea was awake and came in to check on her. Her name tag read Susana Herrera. “Hi, there,” she said as she pumped a handful of sanitizer into her palm from the dispenser on the wall by the door. “How
are you feeling?”
Susana was fit and perky. Her curls bounced as she walked. Bea thought she looked like the picture of health in every way. Susana’s physical presence was a contrast to the rundown shell of her old self that Bea had become. She knew her eyes were sunken and her hair brittle. She had lost weight and muscle tone due to the stress she’d been under. It had happened slowly, so she could sort of pretend it wasn’t as bad as it actually was. But she knew the difference. Travis must have seen it, too, yet he had complimented her.
“I’m good. I think,” Bea replied.
Susana chuckled. “I know you’re still waking up. No rush. You’re doing great.”
“Thanks,” Bea replied, basking in the praise. She was such a ball of insecurity. She hated it.
“Do you remember what happened?” Susana asked.
It took Bea a minute. She was still disoriented.
“Principal Maguire said you were at Max’s school, remember?” Lana prompted. “She called me.”
“Oh, yeah. Max!”
“He’s fine,” Lana said reassuringly. “He’s at Gabby’s.”
“Right."
“Is Max your son?” Susana asked politely as she changed the bag of saline attached to Bea’s IV. She seemed at ease, chatting while she worked. Bea figured patients loved Susana just like the kids at school loved Annie. Bea thought it must feel good to be liked and appreciated.
“Yes,” Bea confirmed. “He’s fourteen. My one and only. He was there when the ambulance picked me up. I hated for him to see his mother like this.”
“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” Lana said to her daughter. “You’re a wonderful mom. I think it’s time you cut yourself some slack.”
Susana smiled and winked at Lana. “I’ll bet you’re onto something there. As they say, mother knows best.” She laughed heartily and wrinkled up her nose.