For All She Knows

by Beck, Jamie

  “I made you a plate. Are you hungry?” I asked, crossing to the refrigerator.

  He set his briefcase on the floor, offering a cautious smile. Trust was no longer a given. “Starving. Thanks.”

  While his dinner plate rotated in the microwave, I poured us each a glass of pinot noir.

  His brows rose. “Wine on a Thursday?”

  “I thought we could set aside everything for the evening and relax.” I handed him a glass, which he handled as if it might be a grenade in disguise. Fair enough. We’d been tiptoeing around each other, no longer doing the dishes together or sitting beside each other on the sofa to watch TV, or spooning in bed. “Has it been rough getting caught up at work?”

  He sipped the wine, hope brimming in his eyes. “Not too terrible, thanks. The team’s been supportive, and I’ve been able to sneak in a little work here and there while hanging out with Carter, catching up on emails and client calls while he does homework.”

  Picturing father and son side by side at work made me smile. Carter inherited his ambition from Sam, whereas my biggest goal had been simply to create a happy family. “That’s good.”

  When the microwave beeped, I set the steaming plate on the table with a napkin and silverware, then took a seat opposite my husband.

  “I hate to throw a wrench into the evening, but I’m curious about how you handled what Kim did,” Sam said, his eyes cautious.

  “What’s Kim done now?” I didn’t want to know, truth be told, because I needed what little remained in my tank to patch up my marriage.

  He hesitated. “The email from Mrs. Astacio?”

  “Her Spanish teacher?” I frowned. “So much happened today I haven’t checked my email since before I left the rehab center.”

  Sam set his hands on the table as if bracing for me to melt down. “She caught Kim cheating on a quiz today.”

  “Cheating?” I hung my head. “Kim didn’t say a word to me.”

  I couldn’t believe she’d pulled this now, when we were already dealing with more than we could handle. Then again, perhaps that was why she’d done it. She’d wanted our attention—my attention. Sam had to assume Kim didn’t feel safe talking to me about it. I’d been too distant. Too focused on Carter at my daughter’s expense. I started to rise, but Sam touched my arm.

  “Wait,” he said. “She’s not going anywhere. Let’s first talk about what else happened today.”

  I hesitated, remembering my vow, then sank back onto the seat, sipped my wine, and trusted in my husband. “Okay.”

  He twirled his glass in a circle on the table, wearing a loving expression. “I heard about the board vote. I’m sorry, babe. You did your best, though, so no regrets.”

  His rationale made perfect sense. Three weeks ago, I might’ve agreed and even been proud of myself for taking a stand. Tonight, however, his “no regrets” comment came across as tone-deaf. He still didn’t understand the pain and confusion, or guilt and blame, swirling inside me. The very things driving us apart, too.

  I swigged back half my glass. “I have plenty of regrets—mostly because I put myself and Carter through all that stress for nothing.”

  When he finished chewing a bite of lasagna, he flashed what he probably meant to be an encouraging smile. “It wasn’t all for nothing. You wrote an impressive speech and you showed our kids how to fight for what they believe in, even when it’s hard and others are against you. All checks in the win column. I’m proud of you for trying. When you think about it, the final decision almost doesn’t matter.”

  “Proud?” I shook my head. “Not when Carter asked me not to do it. When he’s not here now, in part, because I didn’t listen to him.”

  Sam set his fork down and wiped his mouth. “Gracie, it’s time to stop.”

  “Stop what?” I slugged back more wine to smooth the slide into my guilty conscience, letting the alcohol loosen my muscles and my tongue.

  “Stop blaming everyone, including yourself. We all made decisions—ordinary, everyday kind of decisions—that contributed to a tragic accident. But no one, not even you, can control the universe. We don’t decide fate, nor can we predict the outcome of every decision we make. If you pick apart every choice, looking to assign blame, how far back do you go? If I had never asked you out, Carter wouldn’t exist, so do we beat ourselves up for falling in love?”

  “Now you’re being ridiculous.”

  “Am I?” He shrugged and took another bite.

  I topped off my glass again, frowning. “Fate didn’t throw Carter down those stairs. And fate didn’t let him go to that party. We did. We did, Sam.” I could feel tears forming again as Mimi’s accusation replayed. My eyes were itchy from the tears I’d cried today.

  “It’s a mix, Grace. Lots of other kids were at the party, and none are hurt. Kids go out and take risks. That’s what we signed up for when we had them. We do our best to guide them, but they’re individuals that we ultimately can’t control. At some point, you need to accept that, and accept what’s happened and move forward. I know that’s what Carter needs most now—for us to work together and support him in a loving environment. Not a cold, recriminating one. Kim too. She senses the tension. And we’re both distracted and giving Carter all our resources.”

  He might have a point, but all I heard was how I was failing. Failing him, failing Kim, failing Carter. My limbs and face heated. “I wish I could get over things as easily as you, but your impatience doesn’t help me get there faster. Besides, it’s not even been two weeks.”

  “I’m not impatient or unsympathetic, but this situation affects our kids, so we need to pull ourselves together.” He took a breath and waited for me to raise my head and meet his gaze. It took a while because I didn’t like the mirror he was wielding. “I know you don’t like surprises, especially unpleasant ones. I also know why. I’m not asking you to get all the way to forgiveness now—only that you try. Take a single step.”

  I’d never doubted how well Sam understood me and my triggers. He might be right about a lot of things, but his lectures didn’t erase my guilt. Having worked day and night to keep Carter company and on pace at school, I was more exhausted than ever. I flattened my hand on the table, gently pounding it. “I am trying. I even spoke to Mimi today.”

  A cautious smile emerged. “Where?”

  That patronizing tone wouldn’t help close the gap between us.

  “She and Rowan came to see Carter after school.” I polished off my wine, harkening back to Mimi’s proffered doughnut and hopeful eyes. “We spoke in the cafeteria while the boys visited.”

  Sam sipped his wine, eyeing me over his glass. “How’d that go?”

  I sighed. “Carter seemed a little happier after spending time with Rowan.”

  “Good!” His grin widened. “And you?”

  I raised one shoulder. “I thanked Mimi for organizing the Meal Train.”

  “Speaking of . . .” Sam pointed his fork at the remaining lasagna, which was stuffed with three cheeses, mushrooms, tiny meatballs, hot sausage, and hard-boiled eggs. “This is really good. Who made it?”

  “Missy.”

  “I hope there’s more.”

  I nodded yet felt irked by his casual attitude about all this.

  “I’m sure Mimi appreciated the gratitude. Did you feel better after talking to her?”

  “No, Sam.” I scowled. “She basically blamed us for Carter’s injury.”

  His entire face grimaced, as if he’d swallowed a shot of cheap tequila. He set the silverware down. “Why would she say something like that?”

  Maybe now he wouldn’t be so quick to label me the bad guy and Mimi the saint.

  “At first she was full of self-recrimination, asking how we could get our relationship back to normal—as if that would ever exist again. Sometimes when bad things happen, you can’t go back, and this might be one of those times. I mean, come on. Carter’s new normal might involve wheelchairs and ramps and lifelong therapy, so we can’t pretend that doesn’t cha
nge everything.” I tapped my fingernails on the table, calming myself down, trying to stay in the moment to win Sam to my way of thinking. “Anyway, I told her we probably shouldn’t talk until after things with Carter are settled. Once lawsuits are filed, the less we communicate, the better. Well, as soon as she had something to lose, she changed her tune and blamed us.”

  Sam laced his fingers together on the table, his expression a picture of disillusionment. “Oh, Grace. Lawsuits?”

  “Yes, lawsuits. Weren’t you stressing about how the costs might add up? Why should we bear all of that when so many others were responsible for what happened? Carter got hurt at Mimi’s house after she left them alone with alcohol, so her homeowners coverage will kick in. And Deshaun and John—we can sue them civilly for pushing him.”

  “I’m not saying it’s not an option, but surely there are better ways to bring that up than threats and stiff-arming friends.”

  “It’s not a threat, it’s a fact. Set aside the co-pays, we still don’t know what special accommodations Carter might need going forward. We could need to retrofit the house with ramps and special bathrooms. Plus, doesn’t our son deserve something for his pain and suffering?”

  Thankfully he nodded, yet when he ran his hands through his hair, it looked as if he might be tugging on it in frustration, too. “But lawsuits are a formality—they shouldn’t force us to push friends from our lives. Babe, you’ll regret that later when Carter is better and you miss Mimi.”

  “I already miss her.” If this had happened at anyone else’s home, she would’ve been at my side each day. It would’ve halved my sorrow, too, because I wouldn’t be swimming in the cold waters of grief over the loss of a friendship along with the losses of Carter’s mobility and my absolute faith in my marriage. “That doesn’t change what we have to do. Why don’t you understand the difference?”

  “Instead of looking at the worst-case scenario, I wish you could hope for the best. But even if we go with your doomsday version, everything would be easier to manage with the support of friends and the people we love who love us. Carter will thrive more quickly if you and I are on the same page than if there is distance here.” He gestured between us.

  “What do you think this is for?” I raised the glass of wine. “I’m trying to share my feelings, but every time I do, you take the other side. From my perspective, all I’m doing is putting Carter’s needs first. Yet all I feel is how disappointed you are that I’m not coping like I should. That’s not helpful or empathetic.”

  He set his elbows on the table and covered his face, blowing out a breath. “I’m worried about you, so I’m playing devil’s advocate so you don’t end up with more regrets.”

  “Well, that’s not what I need. Can’t you just hold me and tell me how much this sucks and how unfair it is that it has happened? Or acknowledge that my anger is natural instead of telling me to get over it and make peace with everyone?”

  We stared at each other in silence, my heart limp in my chest, emptied of every feeling I possessed because I’d laid them all bare in this gamble to put us back together.

  “I never meant to make you feel bad. I only want you to let it go because I love you and it hurts me to see you in pain. Justified or not, anger isn’t helpful. Not for Carter, or you, or us.”

  I leaned forward, pointing my finger at him. “Are you saying these things to Carter?”

  “No. Why?”

  “He asked me if we were fighting.”

  “I swear I haven’t said a word.” He stared right at me, so I believed him. Sam reached across the table to cover my hand. We hadn’t touched like this in days, not even by accident. It felt familiar and yet as fragile as silk stitches holding together a gaping wound. “I want to close this distance, Gracie. I miss my wife.”

  “And I miss you being on my side.” I left my hand in place with his on top.

  He squeezed it. “Believe it or not, I’m on your side.”

  “Really?”

  “Of course.”

  “Then do me a favor.”

  “Anything.” He smiled with some relief at a shot for a quick fix.

  “The school budget has to be approved by the city economic council, which your colleague, Hayden, sits on. Put a bug in his ear. Convince him that new fields aren’t what’s best for the students or the town.”

  Sam’s mouth fell open, and his gaze turned disgruntled. He withdrew his hand and sat back, those first stitches now popping apart. “What has that got to do with anything that matters?”

  “Roni was so smug about how Deshaun and John are getting off with a slap on the wrist. Now they’ve also won this debate. Meanwhile, our son’s future is up in the air.” I popped off my chair, hands raised. “I can’t stand it. At least if we overturn this budget thing—if we get money for the labs—my speaking out will have been worth something. When Carter returns to school, he’ll have something to show for all this pain.”

  “Babe . . .” Sam hesitated, his hand aloft like he was trying to conjure the words to express himself. “That’s not how this works. New microscopes won’t vindicate you or help Carter walk. Let’s put our energy into family therapy to prepare for whatever lies ahead rather than into rehashing the budget. Besides, Hayden’s an honorable guy. I’m not going to use guilt or make some twisted loyalty play. That’s not me or him, and it’s beneath you, too.”

  “So much for ‘anything.’” I snatched my empty glass from the table and took it to the sink. “You’re more interested in being right than being helpful. You’d rather manage me than understand where I’m coming from. You’d rather keep the peace than fight for our rights. Well, I’ve been keeping the peace since I was old enough to walk, and I’m sick of it.”

  Sam’s face reddened. “Your attitude reeks more of vengeance than justice.”

  “Maybe it’s both. Who cares? Every time I look at Carter in that bed, I want to scream. Like it or not, we’re calling a lawyer soon, Sam.” We stared at each other, but he said nothing. I supposed he gave up. That didn’t make me feel better, or any closer to my husband. My plan to mend fences was as much a failure as most everything I’d done these past few weeks. My brain hurt from the circular discussion, and now he had me confused and turned around. I could have thrown up from the way he now viewed me: a vengeful wretch instead of a heroic mother. “I guess I’ll go deal with Kim and her cheating.”

  “No.” Sam stood with his half-empty plate. “Let me. You’re too angry.”

  Another flaw. More shame.

  He scraped the food into the disposal and loaded his plate in the dishwasher. Before exiting the kitchen, he glanced my way, his forehead creased. “I’m worried about us. These kinds of tragedies can break families apart. I’m not a fool. I know marriages have ups and downs, but I’ve done things your way from the beginning. Now I’m asking you to bend a little. Please, Gracie. If I’m unable to help you, talk to someone else before we lose even more.”

  After he left, I gripped the counter until my hands ached. Exhaustion and loneliness coiled around me, wrenching more tears. Slowly I bent forward, elbows on the counter, hanging my head.

  I stared at the floor, unable to comprehend why everything I did pushed us further apart. Was I like my mother—seeing only what I wanted to see and blocking out the rest? Sam might have been pretending to go along with me for years while secretly disagreeing. Perhaps my need to create a calm environment—and his knowing the reasons why—discouraged him from asserting himself. Or had he been like my mother, expecting me to sit back and not complain about my own suffering or watching others suffer, like Margot and Carter?

  Mimi’s voice began its drumbeat. “Please work on forgiving him before your anger tears your family in two and your life becomes a series of visitations and split holidays.” I pressed the heels of my hands against my eyes as if to erase her from my mind, but her earnest expression remained. Here I stood, abandoned and confused. Even my kids didn’t recognize me. Maybe Sam was right . . . I needed help. But
whatever I chose next had to be my decision and mine alone.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  MIMI

  Tuesday, January 26

  Potomac Point Juvenile Court

  I stared at the computer screen, triple-checking for typos before hitting “Post” to the Facebook moms’ group for the second time in as many weeks.

  Hey, gang, while many of us are celebrating the Board of Ed’s decision, others are not. Given recent events that occurred in part because of the debate, I set up a GoFundMe page to raise money in Carter Phillips’s name. Every penny will be donated to the high school science department so it can upgrade some of its equipment. My hope is that everyone’s generosity might help heal the rift within our community, so please consider participating, whether that means donating one dollar or one hundred. Thanks!

  Satisfied, I closed my laptop. Although I’d raided my spare-change jar to fill my gas tank this week, I kicked off the campaign with a one-hundred-dollar contribution. That might buy only some beakers, but it was a start. None of us could undo the conflict or consequences created by the budget debate. But whatever others might think, and whatever steps Grace took next to protect her son’s future, this would show Carter that I loved him and wanted him to have something to look forward to when he came home.

  With that matter settled, it was time to take Rowan to the juvenile court for his hearing—the rare meeting I wouldn’t be late for. Taking time off work when I needed every appointment I could get these days sucked, but given Rowan’s confession, the lawyer thought it best to plead guilty and jump on the earliest spot on the judge’s schedule. Just as well, since we were eager to get this over and done. I worried about the fines—neither Rowan nor I were flush with cash.

  Dirk had promised to meet us there, making me double-dread our morning. The fact that he’d reached out to Grace made my skin hot, but I wouldn’t throw rocks at a sleeping bear. No one from child and youth services had contacted me yet, but the fear that Dirk would show up today with someone to question me persisted like a low-grade fever.