by Nina Darnton
Jeff impatiently shook his head at her intransigence and walked back to the living room, where he continued to pace. By four-fifteen Mick Kellicut got up to go. “I’m sorry. But you’ll have to bring him in when he gets home. I can’t wait anymore.”
“Please, Officer. Just thirty more minutes. Maybe he stayed for an after-school activity. Some kids do that. That would delay him by at least half an hour.”
“Is he signed up for any?”
“I don’t know. He might have just recently signed up for one. Or maybe he’s reluctant to come home so he’s hanging out at school a little longer today. Please give him a little more time.” She took his cup and refilled it and offered him a piece of pie, which he refused. She was getting very worried because she knew Danny didn’t have any after-school activities and she had run out of other excuses for him. This was their one chance to help him out of this mess and he was ruining it. He seemed to have a talent for hurting himself. She tried to engage Mick in conversation, asking him about his beat and the policy of neighborhood policing that he was engaged in. He answered with his mind obviously on something else, and kept looking at his watch. She was just asking him about what made him choose police work and what his interests had been before he became a cop when the door opened and Danny walked in. The expressions of relief from Marcia and even Jeff were audible. Danny, however, saw the policeman and gasped in dismay. He still had his hand on the doorknob and was about to slam the door and run, but Jeff grabbed him and brought him in.
“Where the hell were you?” Jeff blurted.
“At school.”
Mick got up and approached Danny. He asked Marcia and Jeff if he could have a word with him alone. They nodded nervously and left Danny and the cop by themselves in the kitchen. They didn’t share a look or say a word to each other. Marcia went into her study and closed the door. Jeff went to the bedroom. Marcia thought it a bad sign that she and Jeff couldn’t wait this out together.
Danny sat down nervously across from the cop. He didn’t know where to look, so he just stared at his own hands.
“First of all, Danny, you should know we’ve found the gun.”
Danny looked up for a second, his eyes wide, scared and confused. He swallowed.
“What gun?”
“The gun that was in that box you got. The one you hid in your closet. The one you got from Julio, right?”
Danny was too stunned to answer.
“You know this is serious, don’t you? You know you could be in a lot of trouble?”
Danny nodded, staring at his hands again, seeming intently absorbed in watching his fingers nervously drumming on the table. His legs were bobbing up and down. He thought about Julio saying that he couldn’t protect him if he told anyone about the package. He wondered who Julio needed to protect him from. He had thought the person he should be scared of was Julio. Now Julio was acting like his friend again. He wished he could talk to Raul. He would tell him what to do.
Officer Kellicut reached over to steady him, placing his big freckled hand over Danny’s small one. “It can still be okay,” he said in a reassuring voice. “I’m going to try to help you but you only have one chance and it depends on your telling me the truth. If you’ve been threatened, don’t worry. I’ll protect you. Do you get it?”
Danny pulled his hand away to rub his eyes and nodded again, quick, abrupt movements. He thought of his mother. For the first time he was glad she wasn’t there. He knew this would break her heart. He tried to swallow again but his mouth was too dry.
“Okay. So now I want you to tell me everything,” Officer Kellicut said. “When did you see him? What did he say? What happened? You understand? Everything.”
33
THREE MONTHS LATER
Marcia was in the kitchen feeding Griffin some cottage cheese and apple sauce. Mornings still seemed too quiet and empty without Danny, even though he’d already been gone for a couple of months. She remembered how he’d often be the first to take Griff out of his crib in the morning and how he’d taught him to clap his hands. Afterward, Griff clapped whenever Danny appeared. She shook off the thought. She looked at her watch and saw that she was already behind schedule. She had wanted to get to work early because she had an important meeting at nine-thirty and she wanted to check some figures she had forgotten to take home the night before. Berta had said she’d come in half an hour earlier than usual, but fifteen minutes after the appointed time she still hadn’t arrived. This was unusual for Berta and, worried, Marcia had pulled out her list of emergency babysitters when Berta rushed in, breathless from running all the way from the station three blocks away. She explained that there had been a problem on the subway and they hadn’t moved for twenty minutes. She was apologizing and complaining at the same time, telling Marcia that the lights and ventilation had failed, the passengers were crowded together and all in all, New York City was not fit for human habitation. Marcia handed over Griffin, gave him a kiss, grabbed her coat, told Berta how sorry she was that she had to go through all that and rushed out the door.
Her cell phone rang as she hailed a cab—no subway today, especially after Berta’s experience—and she glanced at the call waiting. “Caller Unknown” flashed on her screen. That meant the call was probably coming from Children’s Village, the therapeutic boarding school where Danny was now living. They had chosen it carefully with Mick Kellicut’s approval—he didn’t like the Glen because it was too far away and Marcia agreed. Danny was allowed only one call a week and she had spoken to him just yesterday, so her first reaction was alarm and she called the school office from the street before climbing into the cab. “Hey, lady, are you in or out?” the driver asked, annoyed. She climbed in, holding up her hand to ward off the driver’s further questions, without giving her destination. She was able to ascertain quickly that nothing bad had occurred. Danny wasn’t ill or in trouble, the secretary said, he had just gotten permission to call again to tell her proudly that he was going to play guitar in a school concert the following weekend and ask her to come. Ignoring the driver’s irritated scowl, she asked the secretary to tell Danny that of course she’d be there and was very proud of him. She was grateful once again that his school was in Connecticut, just a two-hour drive from the Upper West Side. She hung up and gave the driver her office address, ignoring the honking cars behind them and the driver’s angry mutterings in a language she didn’t even recognize, let alone understand. As she settled into the backseat and reached over to turn off the annoying television omnipresent in all New York City Yellow Cabs, she thought, as she often did, how good this school seemed to be for Danny. He was a bereaved child in an extraordinary circumstance, and she and Jeff had tried to fix him up with the Band-Aid of weekly therapy, she thought self-critically. She felt foolish and naive when she remembered it. Of course they should have known it wasn’t enough. When you added how unprepared he was academically and socially for his new situation, as well as their busy work schedules, the distractions of a new baby and Jeff’s hostility to him, it was amazing he hadn’t gotten into far worse trouble than he did. She was glad in a way that the problem with Julio brought his confusion and bad judgment to a head. She had a special place in her heart for Mick, the wonderful neighborhood police officer who helped them work out a plan to avoid legal action against Danny. At least Jeff had listened to her, she thought, in those first shocking moments after they found the gun. If he had followed his first impulse and just called the police that day instead of going out to look for Mick, things might have worked out very differently—especially once they picked up Julio and matched the gun to a shooting he was involved in. She shook her head, inadvertently remembering that sad time. Danny had gotten involved with a thug, a guy who beat up people for gangsters, a guy who had gone too far one day and actually killed someone, and she hadn’t known anything about it. The fact that he was the brother of a classmate who had become his best friend added to the bizarre nature of that situation. What a close call they’d had.
Karen, his secretary, picked up on the third ring.
“Hi, Karen, it’s Marcia, is he in yet?”
“Yes. He just arrived.”
“Can I speak to him, please?”
“I’ll see if he’s available.”
Was she imagining it, or was his always formal secretary even colder since their separation? Jeff picked up the phone and after a few awkward pleasantries, Marcia asked if he’d be interested in Danny’s concert. As she had expected, he begged off, saying he was busy.
“We kind of took him on together, Jeff. Just because we’re separated shouldn’t mean you just drop completely out of his life,” she said.
“We didn’t take him on together. You took him on.”
There it was again. “Okay, okay. Sorry to bother you.” She was about to hang up but he cut in: “Marcia? Wait. How are you?”
“I’m fine. I have to go.”
“How is Griff?”
“You just saw him yesterday. His condition hasn’t changed. I’ve really got to go. Goodbye.” She disconnected and sat for a little while staring ahead of her. She wasn’t thinking, she was processing, in some way, the reality that Jeff was gone, or at least gone from the part of her family that included Danny. Of course she knew that—it was a big part of the reason they’d separated, but that decision hadn’t been a permanent one—they spoke of it as a time-out, an intermission, not a finale. But these things have a life of their own and once he rented an apartment and moved his possessions into it, once they set up a visiting schedule for Griffin and often went days without speaking to each other, the temporary began to feel permanent. She wondered fleetingly if they had made the right decision. Maybe if she had tried harder they could still have made it work between them. Maybe with Danny gone, Jeff would have felt less threatened by him. That was the original plan. Once it had been decided that Danny would go to Children’s Village, they had both been relieved. Even Marcia had to admit that it was not just that he wasn’t going to reform school that calmed her, it was also that the constant pressure of life with him and Jeff was lifted. And Danny was doing well. She had run into Mick Kellicut on her way home a few weeks ago and was happy to be able to report that the teachers and psychologists thought Danny was making a great deal of progress. He hadn’t been allowed home on weekends or holidays yet, but soon he would be. At some point they would have to decide how long before he was allowed to move back home.
Unfortunately, her relationship with Jeff hadn’t fared as well. She went over in her mind the sequence of events that led to their separation. They had both tried to avoid it—both felt strongly about raising Griffin together and neither wanted the complications and disruptions of two households, but neither of them could get past what had already happened. They had both thought that once Danny was away the space in their relationship that had been taken up with tension and accusations and disappointment would be filled with mutual love of Griffin, family outings, even conversations of the kind they had in the old days, about their work, their friends, their plans, the larger world around them. But it didn’t turn out that way. It was true that when Danny was gone a space opened up, but what they hadn’t expected is that it stayed that way, just empty space—empty, uncomfortable, awkward space. They tried to fill it with the minutiae of daily life. They gave dinner parties and took Griffin on picnics and pretended they were the couple they once were, the family they had dreamed of becoming, but it was clear to both that they weren’t. Jeff seemed to think that Danny’s disappearance was permanent and she longed to hear he was coming home. It was like trying to touch each other over a pile of hot coals: they were always fearful of getting burned. Marcia missed Danny. She was sure Griffin missed him. Jeff, it was clearer every day, was nothing but relieved to be rid of him.
But they continued together as if everything would be better. It felt false to her—she knew that they would have a better chance if they were in couples therapy during this sensitive transitional time, but Jeff said he’d had enough dealings with therapy and therapists to last him a lifetime and refused. As always, she thought, he wanted to get back to life as it was and he wasn’t willing to put in the work necessary to make that happen. She wanted to talk things through, honestly believing that was the only way for them to heal. She wanted to tell him that she understood some of his complaints, that she had learned something from everything that happened, that she knew she was at fault too and had made him feel relegated to second, even third place after both Griffin and Danny. She wanted to apologize if she had come off as self-righteous and to reveal that, especially at the beginning, though she was loathe to admit it, she had also wished that Danny and all his problems would disappear. She tried to engage Jeff in that conversation several times. One problem was that their time together, when such conversations might occur, was usually at night when Griffin was asleep, they were getting ready for bed and Jeff was wondering whether they would ever make love again. Marcia would respond to his sexual overtures by saying they needed to talk things through before that felt right. Frustrated, angry, his response was either to brush her off and change the subject or to agree so emphatically that she was at fault that she felt he was attacking her and not accepting any of the blame himself. The conversation would deteriorate rapidly and they each would end up feeling misunderstood.
Marcia knew that until they could resume their sexual relationship there was little hope they could ever work things out—Jeff was too hurt and she felt too pressured and guilty. Although she said they had to come to an understanding first and that would lead to intimacy on every level, she didn’t know if that was true. What she knew was that she didn’t feel desire. It was as if that part of her, the wife, the lover, the sexual partner, had gone to sleep. She wondered if it had died. She had renewed interest in her job and her authors. She was a devoted and passionate mother to Griffin and, from afar, to Danny, following all of his activities and progress, involving herself in the process of his recovery as much as she could. But in spite of taking on some of the blame for their problems, in spite of saying she forgave Jeff’s affair, her body simply didn’t respond to him anymore. She felt she needed to talk it over with someone and arranged lunch with Marian.
She didn’t want to have this conversation in a restaurant so she had invited Marian over on one of the days she was working at home. Jeff hadn’t moved out yet, at that point, but the signs of serious trouble were already there and the conversation about a trial separation had begun. She had asked Berta to take Griffin to the park and prepared a chef’s salad for lunch, knowing how Marian was always worried about how many carbs she ingested. Marcia was eager to talk to her and had told her in advance how much she needed to have this conversation, so Marian came ready to listen and hopefully to help. She arrived with a bottle of Pino Grigio, their favorite wine, which she held in one hand and waved above her head as she stood in the doorway. Marcia felt relieved as soon as she saw her, a flood of sisterly gratitude that at last she could confess what she felt and be sure she wouldn’t be judged or dismissed, counting on the trust and intimacy that are the hallmarks of close friendship between women. Marian came in and the friends hugged.
“Are you okay?” Marian asked.
“Yeah, I guess. Just confused.”
“Well, get out the wineglasses and let’s get started. But where’s Griff? I just want a peek at him first.”
Marcia smiled proudly. “I asked Berta to take him to the park so we could really have the apartment to ourselves. I’d love you to see him, though. Maybe they’ll be back while you’re still here. How long can you stay?”
“No, I made a salad.”
They sat down, poured the wine and Marcia brought the salad to the table so they could talk while they ate. She filled her in as best she could, but wanted to focus in on what was bothering her the most.
“The thing is, I can’t seem to want to sleep with him. It’s not like he repels me or anything, but that chemistry we had, that desire that seemed to connect us even when other things pulled us apart, is gone.”
Marian looked thoughtful. “For him too?”
“I don’t think so. He often approaches me and I have to turn away or tell him I’m not ready.”
“Is it because of his affair, do you think? Do you think of him with someone else, is that it?”
“No. I think we got past that. It’s something else. It’s more about me … I don’t feel like a sexual person anymore.” She paused and got up to bring in some coffee. When she returned she poured a second cup for herself and for Marian and put the pot on a placemat in the center of the table. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m just tired.”
“Look, you have a young baby, a full-time job, a difficult marriage and a foster child who you barely saved from prison. Of course you’re tired.”
“It’s not just that.”
“Do you think it’s about his attitude toward Danny?”
“Maybe. But the point is, Jeff won’t go to therapy with me and he won’t even talk about it with me. And I don’t think I can get past it without some of that happening.”
“Do you want to get past it?”
Marcia looked surprised. “Yes, of course, how can you ask that?”
Marian paused to take a bite of her salad and then a sip of coffee. “Why wouldn’t I ask that? Last time we had an emergency meeting you asked me for the name of a divorce lawyer. You’ve been fighting and struggling since you brought Griffin and Danny home and now you don’t want to have sex. Sounds to me like maybe this relationship is over.”