Good Neighbors

by Joanne Serling

  “Should we call the police?” I asked. Panicked. Knowing what the answer was. All of us returning to the office, calling Jay from my cell phone on the way there. My voice shaking. Jay saying, “Think! Are you sure they didn’t have a playdate this afternoon?”

  Not able to answer him clearly. The tears running down my face. My voice clotted with them. But no, no, they didn’t have a playdate.

  “What about the neighbors?” Jay asked. “Would they have gone home with one of the neighbors if you were late?” The word late seeming to drip with accusation. An image of Paige’s silvery head popping into my mind, pushing it out, knowing she drove nowhere near the school. Winnie receiving bus service from her special needs kindergarten. Cameron at his private school. Terrified all the same that Paige had something to do with this. Hanging up the phone and calling Lorraine’s babysitter, then Drew, and finally Lorraine herself. Nobody having seen the boys. Calling Paige’s house. Paige’s phone ringing and ringing. Telling the office that I was going up to canvass my neighborhood and that they should send the police to my house after they were through with them. Running to my car, rushing home, driving too fast, screeching to a halt in front of Paige’s house, and ringing the bell. Laughter in the backyard. Walking behind the house and letting myself in through her pool gate. Josh and Lucas standing in the far corner playing badminton. Winnie and the Guzman-Veniero boys all standing with them. The scene confusing to me with its contradictions and subtle surprises. That the Guzman-Venieros were there. That Winnie was wearing our Burberry scarf. I’d never seen her wear it before. Which I didn’t want to be thinking about! Running to hug Josh and Lucas, who seemed confused about my worrying.

  “Why are you here?” I kept repeating, whirling around to accuse Lydia of something, unable to find her. Watching, astounded, as Paige calmly let herself out of the French doors of her great room, walking toward me in her suede boots and Burberry raincoat as she called, “Thank God you’re here,” with false concern. “The kids were really scared, Nicole. Did something happen? Is everything all right?”

  I was speechless. What was she implying? That I was a bad mother? Of course, I wasn’t a bad mother. I was late! But that didn’t stop me from feeling like the worst kind of mother: lazy and self-centered. Someone who didn’t put her kids first.

  Paige didn’t care that I didn’t answer her question. Or she did care and was thrilled to see me so tangled up and angry. Cocking her head and saying, “I mean, they were standing on the sidewalk looking all around and confused, and you know what? That’s when pedophiles grab kids. They lurk around schools and wait to prey on the kids who are alone, walking home.”

  I felt my fingers start to go numb with cold despite the relative warmth of the day. The nerve of her! Even though I knew it was true. That pedophiles did do this kind of thing!

  “They were together!” I said, my voice starting to shake.

  “No, Nicole. They weren’t. Josh was pretty far down Forest, almost a full block, and Lucas was nowhere to be seen. You definitely have to talk to him about being a good older brother,” she said, nodding her head in his direction. Then whispering, “He didn’t even apologize when he got in the car.”

  “I’m sure there were other mothers around,” I hissed. Ignoring her swipe about Lucas, which I knew was on point. Lucas wouldn’t apologize for ditching his brother. Or say hello when Paige greeted him. He would have demanded a soda and a snack when he got here and not thanked her for that, either.

  “Nobody was around, Nicole, I swear,” Paige said, crossing her hands over her heart in a way that was completely disingenuous. I hated her! But I was still afraid of her.

  “I’m not comfortable with you picking up my kids,” I forced myself to say.

  “Nicole!” she answered, clearly shocked by my sudden honesty. This wasn’t how we talked to each other. She had, no doubt, thought our little sideswipes and innuendos would go on forever. Not just this afternoon but long into the future, as we pretended to be friends and eventually were again. Wasn’t that how it had worked until now? Wasn’t I part of the lies and collusion?

  “Please don’t ever pick up my kids from school again,” I repeated more forcefully. For a second Paige looked hurt, her cheeks seeming to sink in on themselves, her eyes watery. But in another second she recovered, angry, aware that in my cutting her off, I was no doubt accusing her of something.

  “Nicole!” she said, more loudly now, the children looking up from their badminton game, sensing some disturbance in the air, some crack in the natural order of things.

  “I thought we were like family!” Paige called out. Clearly desperate to cling to this false idea we’d all created back when we thought we knew everything there was to know about one another. Even though our presented selves were always just that—presented. The subtle undercurrents of our true selves always rippling just beneath the surface.

  “I’m just not comfortable with it,” I said coldly, turning my back on her and calling for Josh and Lucas to wrap it up. Josh and Lucas eyeing me warily as I walked toward them, whispering low in their ears, “Right now!” Tugging at them to come with me. Walking quickly to the side of the yard, through the gate in the fence where I’d long ago heard Winnie crying.

  * * *

  At home, I sat Josh and Lucas down together at the granite island.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “I shouldn’t have been late.”

  The boys waited, looking at me. Aware there was something more I’d planned to say.

  “Also, if it ever happens again, which I don’t think it will, go back to the school. Lucas, you stay with your brother and walk back to Miss Mallory in the office, okay?”

  Silent, solemn nodding from Josh.

  Lucas thinking it over, then arguing, “But it was Paige.” Staring at me boldly. Not acknowledging his misdeed in abandoning Josh.

  “I don’t want you to play at the Edwardses’ anymore,” I said.

  “Can we go in a car with them?” Lucas pressed.

  “No.”

  “What about Lorraine and Drew?”

  “No one. Let’s just say you only get in a car with Mommy and Daddy from now on.”

  “Are we still friends with everyone?” Lucas asked. Josh silent. Not comprehending. Or else comprehending but uncertain how to unravel things.

  “Yes,” I lied.

  “But why’d you say we can’t play at Paige’s house?” Lucas pressed. Always aware when I was lying or hiding something. Which I’d never fully contemplated before. How intuitive he was. How much like me.

  “It’s just for now. While we work things out with them,” I offered, willing to hint at a fight but not the reasons for it. Hoping to reassure him with the fact that it was temporary. Not wanting to scare him.

  “Is it about Winnie? Because she lies all the time?” Lucas asked.

  “What are you talking about?” I asked.

  “Cameron told us that Winnie makes up stories and is ruining their family.”

  I tried to keep my face composed for Lucas, but already I felt the tears coming. Wiping at my eyes and saying, “Honey, I’m sure Cameron is confused. She is their family.” Standing up from my stool at the island and leaning over to hug Josh and Lucas in quick succession, whispering, “I love you.” Hoping they knew how much I meant it. Hoping they knew I would always protect them, even though I’d failed miserably at pickup today.

  Lucas and Josh silent as they thought about this. Lucas asking, “Can we go to Target since you forgot to get us?”

  I was shocked at how manipulative he was, how shrewd and single-minded. Even as I was aware of how well suited it made him for the business of living.

  “Yes, definitely. To make up for my being late!” I said, hoping he wasn’t thinking of the long-ago slapping incident, as I was. Target forever reminding me of my poor judgment. Lucas all smiles. Excited. Not remembering the past, or at least not burdened by it.

  Josh turning toward me and asking, “Me too?” as if there were a
ny doubt.

  “Of course, you too,” I said, gathering them both up and squeezing them tight.

  * * *

  “We should adopt her,” I told Jay later that evening, unable to sit on the couch for even a moment and watch what he was watching, some terrible auction show in which people bought unwanted junk out of storage lockers. Why did he care? Why did they? It was cheap and depressing and not even entertaining! All the accumulated waste of a lifetime, things people had once loved or never loved or suddenly needed to exchange for something they would have no use for down the road.

  Jay got a hard look on his face. Not mean, but serious. He lowered the TV volume and turned to look at me. “Don’t do this to me,” he said.

  “I told you what Lucas said that Cameron said.”

  “That doesn’t mean anything.”

  “But what if they want to give her up? What if we could somehow be the ones she was given to?”

  In front of me, Jay shook his head some more and motioned for me to sit next to him, reaching out his arm to bring me close, the musky smell of his body making me breathe deeply, relax. Making me realize how upset I was.

  “Poodle, you’re not thinking straight,” he said, reaching out to rub the top of my hair.

  “Why?” I said, burying my head in his shirt, my voice muffled by his body.

  “Because Winnie’s not a pet. She’s not even up for adoption.”

  “We don’t know that. We could at least make some inquiries. There must be some lawyer somewhere who can advise you on this sort of thing,” I said, still not looking at Jay, still burrowed into his side.

  “Please don’t make me the bad guy,” Jay said, sighing deeply.

  “Why won’t you think about it?” I begged, sitting up straighter, preparing to plead.

  “One, there’s nothing to think about. And two, even if I lived in fairyland, where a child could be miraculously transported from one family to another, we wouldn’t be that family. It’s not the right situation for us,” Jay said, looking at me seriously.

  I breathed in and out. I considered all the ways I could force Jay to at least consider the possibility of adopting Winnie. To go through the same torturous calculation that I knew I would go through. Weighing the pros and the cons. The good and the bad. Feeling guilty. Hopeful. Sad. Redeemed. Knowing deep down, even as I stared at Jay and tried not to stare at the TV set, that I didn’t have the patience. That I wasn’t willing to risk it all. My own safety and security so narrowly won. That I wasn’t willing to take on the problems of another vulnerable and imperfect being.

  “Okay,” I said finally, tears welling up behind my eyes, blocking my throat, making it difficult to speak.

  Jay kept his arm around me but returned his attention to the television program, my gaze floating to meet his. In front of us, a giant bald man was trying to sell a metal coffin to an even larger tattooed man. The coffin had been converted into a meat smoker. Who the hell wanted a coffin meat smoker? Jay turned up the volume so that their interaction filled the room, surrounding us.

  GLASS

  THE WEEKEND CAME, AND with it, a clear sky. The snow and the salt cleaned from the asphalt and the sidewalks. Jay showing the boys how to scooter fast down the slope of our street, away from the cul-de-sac. I was watching from the driveway when I heard it. The sound of glass breaking. Spinning around to see the Edwardses’ storm door in pieces, Winnie screaming and running away from the house. In another moment, Gene streaked through the opening and began to race after Winnie, catching her near the street and kneeling down to hug her close to him. My mind racing, my limbs trembling, uncertain what to do. Finally turning and sprinting in the other direction, hoping to catch Jay, breathless when I reached him and whispered about what I had seen. Bribing the boys with Nutella pancakes if they’d head home now. The boys reluctantly following me, ditching their scooters and plodding into the house. Nobody on the Edwardses’ lawn when we returned.

  Inside, Lucas got out the stool and climbed up the counters to pull down the flour and the baking soda while I clumsily reached for the egg carton. My arm shaking. The container nearly falling as I watched the flashing red bubble of an ambulance stream by our kitchen window. Trying to steady my breathing as Jay and I made silent eye contact. And then my cell phone trilling. Lorraine’s name flashing. I motioned Jay to take over and made my way toward the library.

  “I have to tell you something,” Lorraine said, before I’d even reached the paneled room.

  “I know about the door. I saw Winnie screaming,” I said, my arms shaking wildly, as if I were shivering. Even though I knew it wasn’t the temperature in the house that was making me cold.

  “Winnie was playing chase with Cameron. She thought the storm door was open and ran right through it!”

  Hand to my mouth, imagining the impact as I took a detour to search for the shawl that I kept in the downstairs closet, desperate to get warm.

  “Paige said Winnie’s going to be okay. The cuts are mainly superficial. They called the ambulance just to be careful.”

  I swallowed, trying to digest this, wrapping the shawl tightly around me before asking, “Do you think Winnie was really playing chase?” My voice low, the words nearly stuck in my throat.

  Sighing from Lorraine. Not willing to enter into my darkest imaginings. Not willing to conjure up the shadow that was crawling along the edge of my consciousness.

  “I’m worried that she was running away from Paige,” I said, tears climbing into my voice. “You’d have to be pretty frantic to run through a glass storm door.”

  “I don’t think so,” Lorraine insisted. “I mean, Gene’s a wimp, but he loves Winnie. He wouldn’t let Paige threaten her and then lie about it to the authorities.”

  I closed my eyes and tried to picture Gene in one of his brightly colored golf shirts. The brightness of the color doing nothing to energize the image that came back to me. Of Gene with his loose collar and rubbery face. Of Gene with his long vacant stares and glib, unconvincing answers. Wishing with all my being that Lorraine was right. That Gene was stable, rational, a foil to Paige’s temper and nastiness. Even though I feared it wasn’t true.

  “Well?” Lorraine asked. Softer now. Aware that my silence was its own kind of answer, a response she didn’t want and was hoping I might temper. When I refused to say anything more reassuring, we said our good-byes, the silence too miserable to contemplate.

  * * *

  At two, Lorraine came over with Gabe and Jesse. She needed to talk to me. Privately. The boys herded outside to scooter while we stood at my dining room window, vaguely supervising.

  “He was on the verge of crying,” Lorraine said without preamble.

  “Who was?” I asked, already confused.

  “Gene!” Lorraine said, her eyes swollen. Had she been crying? “Jeffrey and I went to confront him. We saw Paige leave.”

  “Do you want something to drink?” I asked, suddenly desperate for a scotch or even a beer. Desperate not to hear how she confronted Gene. What he said. How awkward it was with Jeffrey there!

  Lorraine waved me off, obviously eager to get on with her story. Obviously not bothered by the direct nature of her confrontation. Wasn’t that Lorraine’s hallmark? Blunt force and direct questioning. Even if she never went deep enough.

  “I told him, ‘Gene, you know we love you and Paige and the kids, but we’re worried. What happened with Winnie?’”

  I swallowed. She’d really said that?

  “Gene sits there blinking, like he has a nervous tic. His skin is this sickly shade of gray.”

  I could picture it. The pallor. Even though I’d never seen him blink like that.

  “Finally he says, ‘Look, if we don’t move forward in the right way, Paige could wind up killing herself or Winnie.’”

  “Jesus!” I said, the image of Paige driving into a tree suddenly rising up in front of me, she and Winnie dead in their seats.

  Lorraine swallowing, staring into space, no longer speaki
ng. I wondered if we could take a break for one quick drink. But Lorraine seemed not to notice me any longer, looking somewhere into the deep recesses of her own mind. Both of us standing in the weak winter sunshine, the children racing back and forth unattended on the other side of the glass.

  Finally Lorraine began to speak again, staring straight ahead.

  “So I ask Gene again, ‘What happened with Winnie? Why did she run through the glass?’ I thought he was struggling not to cry. I sensed he was going to break. We were going to hear the truth. And then Jeffrey says, ‘Gene, we’re really sorry. I hope you don’t think Lorraine’s being a nosy neighbor.’”

  I closed my eyes. Held my breath. Aware that I would have done the same thing. Covered up the ugliness. Made an excuse not to hear it. Even though we desperately needed to know it.

  “Jeffrey ruined everything!” Lorraine wailed, turning toward me fully for the first time. Her face sagging. A jowl appearing where I’d never noticed one before.

  “It was like the old Gene roared back to life inside the blinking man,” Lorraine continued. “He turned from gray to red in an instant, stood up, and knocked over the coffee table. He says, ‘Why would you doubt us? Paige told me you were all snakes!’”

  I was shocked. That Paige had said that about us. That Gene had repeated it! Instantly upset that Paige thought so poorly of us now. Which was ridiculous. I thought poorly of her. Worse than poorly. I thought she was terrible!

  “Now what?” I asked. Not that I really expected something more, but hopeful that this situation could still be salvaged. That we could help Winnie somehow.

  “Gene told Paige about our conversation, and now Paige isn’t speaking to me. I just saw her on the way over here and she literally snubbed me. She’s probably not going to talk to you, either. To any of us!”

  “Good!” I said, pretending to be relieved. Even though I was disturbed. That Paige hated me for all the wrong reasons. That without a connection to her, I’d no longer have access to Winnie.