For All She Knows

by Beck, Jamie

  My body turned cold and my throat closed. Once again, he was taking her side over mine. Every time he did that, I questioned myself and our relationship, which uncertainty pushed us further apart. “You seem to admire her more than me these days.”

  “That’s not true. Grace, I don’t know how to talk to you anymore.” Sam scrubbed his hands over his face as if exasperated. Hot tears built up behind my eyes because I no longer knew how to talk to him, either.

  I couldn’t bring up the possibility of couples counseling and add to our growing stack of bills, although it also seemed like we couldn’t afford not to get help. I was paralyzed—terrified and lonely. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what else to say. I’m so tired . . .” My voice cracked.

  Sam held still; his eyes looked misty. Did he feel as fragile and defensive as I? If I cried or told him I missed him or asked for a hug, would that help, or would it make the gap between us more obvious and painful? I couldn’t move, too afraid of the truth to try any of those options.

  “We’re all drained.” Sam sighed. “For now, let’s focus on Carter’s emotional crisis rather than the litigation.”

  I nodded, preferring a goal I had some chance of meeting. “I’ll call some of Carter’s friends’ mothers to see if their boys might reach out to him this week.”

  I stood because I had to get out of the room before I burst into tears. It was after eight. I ached for a hot shower, a sleeping pill, and a pillow. Ached to close the door on this day and hope for something better tomorrow.

  “Where are you going?” Sam laid his hands on the desktop, surprise on his face.

  “Upstairs.”

  A slight frown formed as he turned his hands over. “I thought we were talking.”

  I dropped my chin. Nothing I did or needed was right these days. I teetered on the edge of a massive breakdown, using all my strength to speak. “I’m exhausted, Sam. Truly bone-tired.”

  “Too exhausted to brainstorm ways to help our son?”

  “That’s not fair,” I cried, gripping the back of the chair I’d been sitting in, my knuckles turning white. The tears came, but I no longer cared about being strong. I wanted him to see my agony—this torment he was adding to as if I deserved it. I didn’t even bother to keep my voice down. “All I’ve done for weeks is worry about how our son is lonely and isolated and scared that he might never walk on his own. Seeing that pain pour out of him today broke my heart. Add to that my mother, Kim, the bills, the slipup, Mimi, the lawyers . . . all of it. I literally can’t process one more thing now, but don’t you dare make it sound like I don’t love my son. He’s all I’ve been focused on for weeks.”

  Sam held up his hands, looking chastened. “I’m sorry. I know you’ve been handling a lot on your own.”

  “That’s not the problem. I know you can’t keep taking time away from the office when we need every penny. It’s being made to feel like I’m not doing a good job—that everything I do is wrong—that hurts me.” My bones actually ached, and I still couldn’t tell from his confused expression if he understood my point. “I’m at my absolute limit today. Please, Sam. Let me have a hot shower and one decent night’s sleep—hopefully one uninterrupted by nightmares—without being made to feel guilty.”

  He leaned forward, his expression cautious. “You might sleep better if we worked through some of our issues. We’ve hardly touched each other all month, Grace.”

  Now he brought that up, after choosing to sit across from me last night, and keeping his distance today? “You can’t possibly think I’m in the mood for sex while our child is probably weeping by himself as we speak.”

  His face fell. “I said touch, not sex. Hugs. Back rubs. Affection in general.” He sounded affronted, yet his eyes remained round and sincere. “We’re so distant. It’s never been like this, and I’m struggling with that.”

  “Me too. I hate the gulf between us each night, but now you’re foisting this conversation on me despite my crying about what a terrible day it’s been, putting me on the defensive. Our marriage seems so fragile now, like every decision we make has the power to destroy us. I don’t want to be the wrecking ball, but I also can’t muster up affection and trust when I feel like you abandoned me weeks ago. I’m not superhuman.”

  In the face of my tirade, his chin fell. His hands balled into fists on the desk until he released them. “I’m sorry, Grace. Go have your shower. I hope it helps.”

  He shuffled through the bills on his desk without meeting my gaze.

  I supposed he, too, had bad days piling up like rocks. Awash in new shame, I backtracked. “I’m sorry I snapped. I’m sorry I’m too weak to talk about this now. It doesn’t mean it isn’t important to me or that you aren’t important . . .”

  He glanced up. “It’s fine. We’ve both got a lot of pressure to deal with. Let’s see what tomorrow brings.”

  I nodded, lingering as if I might circle his desk for a hug. But I couldn’t. Not after confessing how it would feel like a pretense. “Good night, Sam.”

  I left his office feeling the worst I’d felt since this trauma began. Would a good night’s sleep be enough for me to summon the will to offer the warmth he needed in the hopes of saving my marriage?

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  MIMI

  Wednesday, February 24

  A Cut Above

  “That was nice of you to start the GoFundMe page for Carter.” Cassandra Lenox continued to scroll through her phone while I snipped the back of her hair.

  “I hoped to bring the community together.” I raised another hank of hair to cut, thinking about my meeting with Mr. Richards, the science curriculum leader, set for early tomorrow morning. The phone rang, but Vicki answered it.

  “Haters still be hatin’ . . . on both sides.” Cassandra looked at me in the mirror. She wasn’t wrong, although some of Grace’s friends voiced appreciation of my efforts.

  “It’s Rowan,” Vicki said.

  “Excuse me a sec,” I said to Cassandra, then took the phone from Vicki. “What’s up, bud?”

  “My grounding is over this weekend, right?” The lack of greeting and obnoxious tone of his voice grated on my nerves.

  He’d been on me about ending his punishment, but I’d been dragging my feet, knowing Dirk was watching my every move. “Can this wait until I get home? I’m at work.”

  “Tim Johnson’s taking a few guys to his place in the Poconos. Can I go?”

  “You don’t even ski.”

  “There’s other stuff to do, like sled and skate. I haven’t hung out with the guys in forever. Please.”

  He’d been living up to the terms of his sentence and my grounding, and I knew how much he missed his friends. I wanted to make him happy, but how would Grace feel if she got wind of Rowan being off on a vacation while Carter still hadn’t come home? “Who else is going?”

  “John and Deshaun and Gary.”

  Oh man. Thinking about how Jordan treated me at the basketball game made me shudder. “I don’t know, Ro. The Johnsons aren’t exactly strict, and we don’t need more trouble right now.”

  “I won’t do anything stupid.”

  “I’ll think about it and call Betsy.” This would be dicey. I didn’t want Betsy to know about Dirk’s threats, nor did I want Grace to think that Rowan and I weren’t sensitive to Carter’s situation. If I told Betsy that Rowan wasn’t allowed to drink, would that ostracize him? Would she even listen? This must be exactly how Grace and some other parents felt about dealing with me all these years.

  “Fine,” he grumbled.

  “I suggest you change your attitude if you want me to agree. I’ll call you later.” I hung up and returned to Cassandra’s hair, already exhausted by the prospect of the uncomfortable conversation and decision heading my way.

  “Trouble with your son?”

  “It’s been a bumpy road enforcing new rules.”

  “Honestly, Mimi, telling kids no doesn’t actually stop them from doing anything. It only makes them hide their
behavior. Better to provide safe spaces for drinking and make your kid feel safe talking to you about stuff rather than making them afraid of getting in trouble.”

  “That’s what I always thought, but it’s not clear-cut. Lately I’ve wondered if I’ve sent the wrong message these past two years, like I’ve been saying you need to drink to have fun. I haven’t figured out the answer but wish I could steer Rowan to healthier outlets so that every weekend isn’t about the next party.”

  Cassandra cackled. “Be serious. Every time moms sponsor some ‘healthy’ teen activity—like paintball or dances or carnivals—it fails. Those things aren’t ‘cool’ enough. At this point, the genie is out of the bottle, so the best we can do is supervise the party scene.”

  If Cassandra’s home had been ground zero for a catastrophic event and her daughter arrested, she wouldn’t have been so cocksure.

  For weeks I’d been combing through my past and my mistakes. While I accepted some responsibility for Carter’s injuries, I wasn’t wholly responsible, nor was I the worst parent on the planet, despite what Dirk might want me to believe. I wouldn’t keep beating myself up for not being perfect. “All I know is that it backfired for me.”

  “Well, yeah. It’s pretty terrible about Carter Phillips.” She said the right words, but they lacked real feeling. Carter Phillips might as well have been some Joe Blow from another town. Who knew, though? If our roles were reversed and some kid I didn’t know well had gotten hurt at someone else’s party, I might’ve still had her attitude. “But I also heard you might have snagged yourself a silver lining.”

  “Oh?” I held my scissors in the air, confused.

  A sly smile crossed her face as she raised one brow. “Rumor has it that you were seen out with one of Potomac Point’s finest.”

  The temperature in my shop climbed ten degrees. The last thing my reputation needed was for people to think I was chasing men while the rest of my life was burning to the ground. And I hadn’t forgotten the look of betrayal on Grace’s face at the café. “What?”

  “Don’t play dumb.” She chuckled. “You know I’m talking about that hot cop.”

  “It was one date.” I waved dismissively to throw her off.

  She fanned herself. “If I weren’t married, I’d be jealous. Heck, who am I kidding? I am jealous.”

  She hooted. Normally I joked with clients, but not about this. If others started talking, Rowan might hear about it from someone other than me.

  “I told him this isn’t the best time for me to start up a relationship.” A literal truth.

  I set the scissors down and grabbed the dryer, which effectively ended the conversation. Her disappointed frown released the tightness in my chest, because at least she wouldn’t be fanning the flames of this particular gossip any longer.

  I’d barely finished styling her hair when the phone rang again. Would it be too much to ask that it be a new customer?

  Vicki called out, “It’s your lawyer.”

  My stomach dropped to my toes as Cassandra’s curious gaze met mine in the mirror. “I’ll let Vicki check you out, if you don’t mind.”

  “Sure, sugar.” Cassandra toyed with her shiny bob while handing Vicki her credit card. “Looks terrific, as usual. See you next month!”

  “Thanks.” I smiled, then grabbed the phone from Vicki and went into the back room for privacy. An unexpected call from Dina Ellers probably wasn’t good news. While I stood surrounded by magazines and product, panicked tears stung my eyes. “Hi, Dina. What’s up?”

  “I called to discuss a new development. The other defendants have filed cross-complaints against you and Rowan.”

  “What’s that mean?” My foot started shaking. How could those boys sue me when they were the ones who pushed Carter? The whole world was going mad. “I thought we’d all band together?” I closed my eyes to focus.

  “The way this works is that each defendant is jointly and severally liable for whatever damages get awarded to the plaintiff.”

  My eyes popped open. “I don’t understand what that means.”

  “It means that Carter can collect the full judgment from all of you in equal proportion, or get it all from any one of you.”

  “And that’s legal?”

  “Yes. It’s to protect plaintiffs in case one of you is uninsured or bankrupt or otherwise unable to pay. But don’t worry, we’re filing cross-claims against them as well. After all, they were the real proximate cause of the fall.”

  I planted my forehead into my palm with my elbow on my desk, my body heavy with defeat. I could end up responsible for the full boat. If that amount was more than my coverage, I’d lose my shop and my house. Hell, I might also lose Rowan to Dirk. The back room got stuffier by the second. “Doesn’t all this cross-complaining make it harder for everyone to work out a fair settlement?”

  “This is actually typical. Everyone starts at opposite ends, but once we start negotiating, things will come together. We’d rather avoid the risk of a big jury award, despite the possibility a jury might consider his attending the party to have been negligent, barring any financial recovery.”

  Barring any recovery?

  I sat up straight. Carter had pretty much admitted his fault for staying after things got out of hand. “What’s that mean?”

  Ms. Ellers launched into another legal explanation about contributory negligence and more mumbo jumbo.

  “I see.” My thoughts spun. I could end this all right now by sharing what Carter himself had confessed.

  Then I remembered how he’d winced in pain whenever he’d moved in his bed the last time I saw him, and how Grace hadn’t helped Dirk with his custody nonsense. Something in my chest snapped when I thought about how cold Grace had been otherwise. An ugly little part of me wanted to strike back. She kept insisting that this wasn’t what she wanted, but her refusal to talk to me and trust me hurt worse than when Dirk betrayed me.

  Still, I couldn’t share what I knew if it meant Carter might not be able to afford the best care. And especially not when I knew he’d said it mostly to ease Rowan’s conscience.

  “Well, that hardly seems right. Carter will need ongoing medical care for some time. I don’t want him to suffer any more losses or setbacks. I just want to be fair.”

  “A jury might be inclined to agree with you, especially given the fact that he hadn’t been drinking. That said, it’s my job to reduce the recovery, so we need to go over the facts again to make sure I’ve captured all possible defenses.”

  My spine curved as my shoulders rounded forward. Whittling away Carter’s recovery felt sinful. Not that I could afford my insurance premiums going up any better than Grace could afford to pay for Carter’s care. The only difference was that Carter hadn’t done anything wrong, whereas I had, so I decided to keep quiet about his admission. Maybe Grace and Sam would be reasonable in settlement talks, given our personal history. “Okay. Hit me with whatever questions you’ve got, although I don’t know what else I can tell you that you don’t already know.”

  Yeah, I had my fingers crossed behind my back while telling that lie. Dirk would have a field day with that one.

  “Good morning.” I gave Adam, the security guy, a big smile, proud to have arrived early for my appointment despite a restless night. Maybe this marked the beginning of a new trend. “I’m here to meet with Mr. Richards.”

  I signed the sheet while he printed out the visitor sticker with my photograph. “Thanks.”

  Before heading toward the main administrative offices, I wiggled my fingers in a friendly wave goodbye. To this day, I still dreaded meeting with school faculty. Like my son, I hadn’t been a stellar student, so teachers and principals gave me the willies.

  Donna, the main office secretary, greeted me. “Hi, Mrs. Gillette. Let me put you in the small conference room. Mr. Richards is on a call but will be right with you.”

  I followed her into a windowless room with a table big enough for eight people and flopped my purse onto a spare chair befor
e taking a seat.

  “Would you like some water?” she asked.

  “No, thanks.” I’d already chugged a giant mug of coffee on my way over.

  After she left, I took out my phone to take one last glance at the GoFundMe page. Final total of $2,975. Not bad for a spur-of-the-moment idea. If only all my impulses had that kind of ROI.

  I looked up wearing a smile when the door opened, expecting Mr. Richards. Instead, Grace entered the room and then froze. I didn’t move, either, like a rabbit facing a hawk.

  She’d lost weight since the cafeteria run-in. The bags beneath her eyes proved she still wasn’t sleeping. The notion that things had further deteriorated for her caused a little twinge in my heart.

  “Why are you here?” She glanced around as if she’d been punked.

  “Mr. Richards asked me to come talk about the GoFundMe money.”

  Her hands clasped her purse strap so tightly they were changing color. “Me too.”

  “Well, this is a pickle, given the lawsuit.” I couldn’t keep the snark from my voice. Since being served, my compassion for her had started to sour.

  “I won’t defend myself to you and Sam when all I’m doing is following our lawyers’ advice and taking care of my son.” Her weary expression showed no hint of regret as she took a seat at the opposite end of the table.

  I had half a mind to throw my phone at her head. Maybe a good knock to the skull would break my old friend free. Not that she knew that I was protecting Carter by keeping my mouth shut, but you’d think she knew me well enough to guess it. That she didn’t get that throbbed like a toothache. Then again, maybe she didn’t know what Carter had admitted. Given her mood these days, he’d be a fool to mention it. Since I, too, was advised not to discuss the case with anyone, I’d have to stew in my own juices.

  Mr. Richards entered the room before either of us said something more we’d regret later. “Good morning, ladies.”

  His friendly smile gave his rather narrow, horsey face a more attractive look. He took a seat and opened a slender green folder. “Well, we are very grateful for the donation to the science department. Our faculty met to discuss the best use of the funds but decided it would be nice to get input from you about whether you had specific requests.”