Best Friends Forever

by Margot Hunt

  “Ebbie! God!” I exclaimed. The worst part was, my mother probably would have been thrilled if I’d had a lesbian affair. It had always annoyed her that I’d opted for a staid life in the suburbs.

  “Don’t be so judgmental,” Ebbie chided.

  I drew in a deep breath, held it for a few beats and exhaled. “What have Liam and Bridget heard?” I asked Todd as I climbed out of the car. I could still hear the reporters outside, yelling questions. Their presence was unnerving.

  “They know that something’s up, obviously. But I kept them home from school today and turned off their broadband access.” He got out and walked around the car to take my hand in his. “We’ll have to tell them something, but I wanted to wait until you were home.”

  “Thank you. I appreciate that.” I squeezed his hand.

  “You have to tell them the truth,” my mother said, slamming her door shut behind her. “It’s important to be honest with children about everything.”

  Ebbie once told me, in far too much detail, about the first time she’d had sex with a man after divorcing my father. I was ten at the time. Needless to say, I had not appreciated her honesty.

  Todd knew my family history all too well, and he looked at me worriedly. But I was too tired and too relieved to be out of jail to rise to her bait.

  “Let’s go inside,” I said wearily.

  * * *

  Liam and Bridget were in the living room, curled up on opposite ends of the couch, watching one of the Harry Potter movies. They jumped up when they saw me, and I hugged them tightly, tears stinging my eyes.

  “I missed you so much,” I said, wrapping an arm around each of them.

  “Where were you?” Bridget asked.

  “Yeah, why didn’t you come home last night?” Liam chimed in.

  “I’ll tell you about it later,” I said. “I need to shower and change and to lie down for a little while. What are you watching?”

  “Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: Part 1,” Liam said. “We decided to have a Harry Potter marathon today, since we didn’t go to school. We’re going to watch Part 2 next.”

  “TV rots the brain,” Ebbie said, hands on her hips. “The children should be outside, breathing in the fresh air, feeling the sun on their faces. That’s the problem with modern parenting. You all have your children hooked up to tablets or cell phones. No one experiences nature anymore. Let them live and explore and embrace life! Let them go fish, go to the beach and ride their bikes around having adventures until it’s too dark to see!”

  I stared at my mother in disbelief. Had she already forgotten the news vans parked in front of our house? Forgotten that I’d spent the past twenty-four hours in jail?

  “A Harry Potter marathon sounds perfect,” I said, turning back to my children. “I’ll make some popcorn for you later.”

  My children’s cheers drowned out their grandmother’s tut-tuts, which I considered a victory of sorts.

  “You’ve never listened to me,” my mother said testily.

  I was too tired to argue. “I’m going to go wash up” was all I could manage.

  In the bathroom, I peeled off my clothing, which now smelled like the jail, and threw the garments in the small trash can next to the sink. I turned the shower on as hot as I could tolerate and stood under the water until it started to run cold, only then soaping myself up and scrubbing the grime off my body. When I was done, I pulled on my soft white terry cloth robe and padded into our bedroom. Todd was there, lying on the bed, reading his emails on his phone. He looked up and smiled when he saw me.

  “Hi,” I said, lying down next to him. Despite my short nap in the car, I was still exhausted. It reminded me of the scratchy-eyed, never-ending fatigue I’d experienced when my children were newborns. I knew I was going to have to sleep soon just to clear the fog from my mind. “How are the kids, really? Have they been upset?”

  “Bridget had a hard time sleeping last night,” Todd admitted.

  I wasn’t surprised. Bridget’s anxiety was always worse at night, when she was tired and her resistance low. I hated to think of her lying in bed worrying about where I was.

  “What did you tell her?”

  “Just that you had a late work meeting.”

  “And she bought that?”

  “I’m not sure. But I made her some cocoa and read with her. Eventually she got back to sleep.”

  My world tipped and slid as I imagined a future in which I was convicted of murder, spending the rest of my days in prison. And not, as I gleaned from the previous night, in a place as cozy as the Martin County Jail. The state prisons were, according to the other prisoners, much less pleasant. And while I was there, living with murderers and addicts and gangbangers, my children would grow up without me. Todd was a good father. But could he do the work of two parents? Would he make their lunches every day and change their sheets regularly? Purchase Halloween costumes and fill Christmas stockings? Could he be me?

  No. I was pretty sure he couldn’t. Which meant that I couldn’t go back to jail. Not ever, not even for one night.

  “How are you feeling?” Todd asked.

  “I’m pissed off.”

  He laughed. “That wasn’t what I expected you to say.”

  “Actually, I think, in a way, this has been a good thing. It’s better to be angry and ready to fight than to bow down to this bullshit.” I shook my head in disgust.

  “Fight?” Todd asked. “Fight who?”

  “Anyone who wants to keep me away from my family.” I was more specific in my thoughts. Thomas Wyeth. John Donnelly.

  Kat.

  “What was it like in jail?” Todd asked, turning to face me. “Was it scary?”

  “At first.” I drew in a deep breath, remembering it all—the body cavity search, the time I spent in the pod, the hopeless despair that weighed down the prisoners. “And then it was mind-numbingly boring. And noisy. It’s never quiet. And it’s never dark.”

  “Isn’t that a good thing? I would think bad things could happen in the dark,” Todd said.

  “I’m not sure. I was in a pod with other pretrial detainees. It’s in everyone’s best interest at that point not to cause trouble. Physically, I was mildly uncomfortable. Mentally, it was a struggle.”

  “I’m glad you’re home and safe.” Todd reached for my hand, folding it in his.

  “I’m fine. Or I will be once I get some sleep.” I yawned. “I like Grace. She seems very competent. She’s convinced that the arrest was the police’s attempt to bully me into cooperating with their investigation.”

  “Yes, I spoke to her this morning. She seemed very confident that they’ll drop the charges eventually. Anyway, she came highly recommended. And she was expensive, if that’s any indicator,” Todd said.

  “Did you have to pay her a retainer?”

  Todd nodded. “I did, but I don’t want you to worry about that.”

  “Telling me not to worry is like telling me not to breathe.”

  Todd smiled and held open his arms. I curled into him, resting my head on his shoulder and feeling the rise and fall of his chest. I couldn’t remember the last time we had lain like this. It was nice. Surprisingly, my night in jail was proving more effective than all our marital therapy sessions put together.

  “I wasn’t sure what to do about Ebbie,” Todd murmured. “She just appeared out of the blue last night and offered to write a check. We needed the help. But then she announced she was moving in, and I didn’t know what to do.”

  “That’s Ebbie. She comes at a price.” I shook my head. “I sound ungrateful. Coming here and offering this money is actually the nicest thing she’s ever done for me. In the past, she would have just sent me an email saying she was meditating on my finding peace and happiness.”

  “Maybe people really do change,” Todd said.

  “I’m too
tired to be that optimistic.”

  * * *

  I took a long nap that afternoon and emerged from bed just in time to stop Ebbie from making a vegan mushroom-and-lentil shepherd’s pie for dinner.

  “Liam and Bridget will never eat that,” I said.

  “Don’t be silly. They’ll love it,” Ebbie insisted. “Children need to be exposed to new flavors.”

  “Mushrooms make me gag,” Liam announced. He’d found a Frisbee somewhere and was twirling it on one finger. “Like, if I even see one anywhere near my food, I would probably hurl all over the table and on everyone’s plates and everywhere within ten feet.”

  “Thank you, Liam, for that incredibly vivid image,” I said. “We’ll order pizza.”

  “But I have everything I need to make the casserole,” Ebbie complained.

  “That’s very nice of you, but Todd’s allergic to mushrooms,” I lied.

  “He is?” This was Liam.

  In my exhaustion, I had forgotten that children are natural truth detectors.

  “Yes,” I said firmly. “He is.”

  “Cool. Maybe I am, too.” Liam flung the Frisbee up so that it bounced off the ceiling.

  “Liam, knock it off,” I said.

  “Take it outside,” Ebbie suggested.

  “No!” My voice shook. “Not outside. You can go play the Xbox if you want.”

  Liam hurried off, not waiting to see if Ebbie could talk me out of letting him have the additional video game time.

  “They’ve been inside staring at the television all day,” Ebbie protested.

  I turned to her. “The reporters are still out there.”

  “So? They’re not going to bother the children.”

  “Don’t be so naive,” I said. “And besides, I used to watch television for hours when I was his age.”

  “No, you didn’t.”

  “Yes, I did. You were always off with your friends, doing whatever it was you did, and you left me home alone all the time,” I said. “What did you think I was going to do?”

  “That’s very disappointing to hear.” Ebbie made a moue of disapproval. “I would have hoped you’d use that time to improve yourself. To read poetry or learn to play a musical instrument or write in your journal.”

  “Seriously? Mom, I was a teenager,” I exclaimed. “You’re lucky I wasn’t smoking pot and getting pregnant.”

  “Am I?” Ebbie tipped her head to one side. “I’m not so sure about that. You might have benefited from some nontraditional life experiences.”

  “So, pizza for dinner?” Todd asked, walking into the kitchen, before I could respond. Which, under the circumstances, was probably a good thing.

  “Yes. Will you call it in?” I turned to him, happy for any excuse not to continue this conversation with Ebbie. “Get a veggie one for my mom, and then whatever the kids want. They usually want a supreme.”

  “The children can eat vegetarian pizza,” my mother interjected. “All that meat isn’t good for them.”

  I closed my eyes for a moment and took a few deep breaths.

  Don’t react, I told myself. Stay calm.

  “Just get a veggie and a supreme,” I said.

  Todd went out for the pizzas. His departure caused a brief stir among the press still staked out in front of the house, but they quieted down quickly. I wondered how long they’d stay there. It struck me then that the press monitoring the comings and goings of my family was the least surreal thing to have happened over the past few days. My life had become unrecognizable.

  Todd returned with the pizzas twenty minutes later and set the steaming cardboard boxes on the counter. I put out plates and napkins, and everyone helped themselves. Once we were seated at the table, I knew that it was time to tell the kids what was going on, or at least a version of it. I would have liked to do so without Ebbie present, but I didn’t see a way around it.

  “I know you’re probably wondering why you stayed home from school today,” I began once I’d chewed and swallowed a bite of veggie pizza. I would have preferred the supreme myself, but the children certainly weren’t going to touch the veggie, and I’d already saddled Todd with a fake mushroom allergy.

  “It was awesome!” Liam exclaimed. “Can I stay home tomorrow, too?”

  “I don’t know.” I looked at Todd. “They have to go back at some point, right?”

  “Just one more day? I have a science test tomorrow I’d like to skip,” Liam said.

  “You’re not staying home just to miss a test,” Todd told him.

  “Then why did we stay home today?” Bridget asked.

  “That’s what I want to talk to you about,” I began again.

  “Your mother had some issues she needed to work out,” Ebbie interrupted.

  “Thank you, Ebbie, but I can handle this.”

  “If Gram is your mother, why do you call her Ebbie?” Bridget asked.

  Ebbie smiled fondly at her granddaughter. “You can call me Ebbie, too. I’ve never been comfortable with the labels or relationships our patriarchal society imposes on us.”

  Bridget looked at me, confused by her grandmother’s rhetoric. I drew in a deep breath, pushing down my irritation that in the middle of everything I was going through, my mother’s presence was forcing me to deal with her tiresome, never-ending political posturing.

  “Gram doesn’t like being called Mom,” I said. “She believes it devalues women by emphasizing childrearing as their most important contribution to society.”

  “So should I call you Alice from now on?” Liam asked.

  “No,” I said. “You will continue to call me Mom.”

  “Yes, your mother has always been very clear that she has no wish to follow in my footsteps,” Ebbie said, dabbing at her mouth with a paper napkin. “She’s always disparaged my beliefs.”

  I put down my pizza. “That’s not true. We’re just very different people.”

  “Exactly. I’m open to the world and all its experiences,” Ebbie said.

  “Which makes me what, exactly?”

  Ebbie sighed. “I love you dearly, Alice. But you’ve always kept your feelings closed off.”

  “That’s not true,” I said, bristling. “The fact that I don’t feel the need to talk about my feelings all the time doesn’t mean I don’t have them.”

  “Why don’t we get back on topic?” Todd suggested mildly.

  I glanced at the kids. Liam had folded his slice of supreme pizza to make it that much easier to wolf down. Bridget, as always, had removed all of the toppings from her pizza and was eating it backward, crust to point.

  “Where were you last night?” Liam asked.

  I nodded and pushed my plate to one side. My appetite had disappeared.

  “I’ll tell you. But first, I don’t want you to worry,” I said, looking at Bridget. I could instantly tell that this was the wrong way to begin. Telling my daughter not to worry just caused her to worry preemptively about whatever was coming. “Everything is going to be fine. But the truth is...I was arrested yesterday. I spent the night in jail.”

  My children stared at me with such identical wide-eyed shock that I almost smiled. I didn’t often think the two of them looked alike, but every once in a while, there would be a moment when, with an expression or gesture, they seemed so similar.

  “Cool,” Liam said.

  “It certainly was not cool,” I said.

  “You were in jail?” Bridget asked, her voice rising on the last word. She burst into tears.

  After that, it took a few minutes to calm her down. She eventually crawled into her grandmother’s lap, even though she was far too big to do so comfortably. Ebbie didn’t seem to mind. She rocked Bridget as though she were a baby, stroking her hair and patting her back. Liam used the interlude to eat another piece of pizza, then fetch a third from the card
board box on the counter.

  “Don’t eat too much,” I cautioned him. “You’ll get a stomachache.”

  “No, I won’t. I could eat that whole pizza all on my own,” Liam bragged. “Why were you arrested? Were you drinking and driving?”

  “Of course not. Why would you ask that?”

  “Because Mason’s dad did and he got arrested. I don’t think he had to spend a night in jail, though. I’ll ask Mason about it.”

  “Please don’t.” I drew in a deep breath. “I wish I didn’t have to tell you this, but the police arrested me for murder.”

  This bald statement silenced everyone, even Bridget’s weeping.

  “You killed someone?” Liam asked.

  “Of course she didn’t,” Todd said loudly.

  “I don’t think the police even believe I had anything to do with it,” I said, hoping I was striking the right tone to reassure them. “My lawyer doesn’t think they do. She thinks they are just trying to pressure me so that I’ll cooperate with their investigation.”

  “But why would they do that?” Liam asked.

  I looked at Todd. Despite my nap, I was still tired, and my brain felt like it was stuffed full of cotton. Why hadn’t we made a plan for what to tell the children? This wasn’t a conversation to wing.

  Todd nodded at me and said, “The truth is, and this is very unfortunate, the police sometimes use their position of authority to bully and intimidate.”

  “That’s what they’re doing to Mom?” Bridget asked from her perch on Ebbie’s lap.

  “You’re crushing your grandmother,” I told her.

  Ebbie smiled and cuddled Bridget closer. “No, she’s not.”

  “Who do they think you killed?” Liam asked.

  Todd and I exchanged a look. I shrugged. It wasn’t like Liam couldn’t find out in five minutes on the internet.

  “Kat’s husband. Howard Grant.”

  “No way,” Liam said to me, his mouth dropping open like a cartoon character’s.