by Zoe Whittall
joan saw the basement the way she had the first time she attended the group; she imagined Sadie must find it strange and sterile. The room was already bustling with women and their awkward teenaged children, siblings, parents, and partners. There was a coffee urn, and a dispenser of watery hot chocolate. Joan filled a Styrofoam cup with cocoa for Sadie, who seemed grateful to have something to hold on to. Dr. Forrestor called everyone to sit in the wooden chairs assembled in a circle. A flip chart detailed a list of rules for respectful group dynamics.
“We’re going to start with a go-around,” Dr. Forrestor said slowly, scanning the circle and trying to look everyone in the eye.
Each woman spoke her name, introduced her family member, and said one thing she was grateful for. Joan tried to memorize their names as they went around. Barb, grateful for coffee, with her daughter Emma. Julia, grateful for her two sons’ health, with her boyfriend. Amy, grateful for a lenient judge, with her mother. Shirley, grateful for the group’s support now that her husband was back in jail for a parole violation, also with her mother. There were two new women. One, who spoke barely above a whisper, Trish, said she was grateful for her anger, because it kept her from feeling the full weight of her sorrow, and she’d brought her friend.
Then the second new woman introduced herself as Anna, and it was as if all at once everyone in the group, collectively, realized who she was: Anna Lansing, the wife of sexual predator and murderer Richard Lansing. She had cut her hair shorter, and it was fully grey, no longer auburn the way it had been in press photographs. Two years ago, the high commander in the us Army had been tried and convicted for two murders and dozens more sexual assaults, as well as a string of break-ins and robberies of women’s undergarments. Anna was said to have known nothing about it. Joan remembered reading the newspaper accounts at the time and thinking, As if she didn’t know!
Well, now she understood.
Sadie had started off chewing her nails, looking bored, but when she realized who Anna was, she leaned forward, wide-eyed.
“I know you probably all know who I am: Anna Lansing, although now I’m Anna Taylor. That’s my maiden name.”
She spoke as though she had picked a point on the wall in front of her to address.
“This is my sister, Monica.”
A chubby woman beside her with long blond hair held back in two gold combs smiled and waved.
“I’ve only attended this group once before, but I see Dr. Forrestor several times a week and he suggested I come to this session.”
Dr. Forrestor interrupted. “I just want to, again, emphasize that there is a strict code of confidentiality in this room that we all must agree to. You may be tempted to gossip about the fact that Anna was here, but try to think about how you would feel in her position. It is a very brave thing that she is here today.”
“I think that, well …” Anna’s voice broke.
Her sister jumped in after twenty or so seconds of silence. “I think what has been so difficult for other people, myself included, to understand is that besides the horror of his crimes, besides everything he did, my sister is facing a terrible loss of her life partner, and everything that comes with that kind of loss. Even under normal circumstances those changes are incredibly difficult. And she has very few places that she can turn. She is judged very harshly by everyone.”
Joan was so curious about Anna, wanting to know the details, and then she felt ashamed, knowing what it was like to be on the other end. Anyone she met who didn’t shun her wanted to know the dirt.
She was so rapt, and so concerned with how Sadie was feeling, that she was almost surprised when her turn came around. While she had spoken openly at the group before, rambling on about every emotion, she was surprised by a feeling of shyness at the thought of Sadie hearing her voice. She faltered as she introduced herself.
“This is Sadie, my daughter.”
Sadie blushed, gave everyone a half wave.
“My husband, Sadie’s dad, is awaiting trial. We’re kind of in a holding period right now.”
Sadie picked at her fingers.
“One of the hardest things about this situation has been how to keep myself together enough to be a parent. It hasn’t been easy,” she started. There were nods of resonance from around the room. Sadie started to chew her thumb. Joan quickly took stock of why she was bringing this up. Was she looking for sympathy, trying to get Sadie to understand? She decided to stop.
“My daughter is very smart, and very strong. I wanted to bring her here today to see that we’re not alone.”
Sadie stopped chewing her thumb and half smiled at Joan, nodding.
when they arrived home, Sadie paused before going upstairs, and pulled some things out of her coat pocket and handed them to Joan.
“What do you think of these?”
Joan scanned them. “Where on earth did you get them? Those nut jobs have nothing to do with your father.”
“They’re really convinced he’s innocent. I thought you might appreciate them, you know, their support,” said Sadie.
Joan snorted and looked at the stickers again.
“I think they are quite disturbed and don’t understand how the world works, really. And they’re using your father’s situation as a way to get attention for themselves and their … ideas. Who gave them to you?”
“Dorothy. She’s the leader of the group,” Sadie said.
“Are you kidding me? Well, that explains a lot. Studies do show that right-wing people have a lower iq, which is certainly the case for Dorothy,” Joan said, reading the last few stickers. “‘Just because she regrets it in the morning …’ Honey, I don’t know exactly what happened between your father and those girls, and perhaps I’ll never know, but this kind of campaign is not something that helps anyone, especially young women, or women in general. She should not be in a position of authority, that dingbat. I can’t believe her! Giving these to you, of all people. I’m furious. As if you need more things to wrestle with.”
Sadie paused, as though she was about to say something further, but she just gave her mom a hug and went upstairs. Joan stood at the foot of the staircase feeling happy for the hug, and uncertain what to do about Dorothy.
twenty-seven
sadie was relieved by the prospect of the impending Christmas trip to New York City. Even just knowing that she was getting out of town for a bit felt good. She pulled on her running gear, tugging at a frayed thread at the ankle seam. Her phone beeped with an email. Her pulse sped up, anticipating it might be from Kevin. She was trying to wait a few minutes before looking at any incoming mail. Be cool. Just be cool. But she couldn’t help herself, and was disappointed to see it was an effusive email from Dorothy describing how the group loved her and she hoped she’d come to the next meeting, signing off with seven smiley-face emojis.
Sadie needed to get out of Avalon Hills and gain some perspective. She’d completed her exams, getting passable but not stunning grades, and she didn’t care. She and Jimmy had resumed a sort of civil awkwardness. Elaine called or emailed every few days to check in. Sadie had been dreading Christmas, the first holiday of her life without her father, and going away meant she might not feel his absence as much. She wouldn’t be waiting for him to make shortbread and thumbprint cookies. She wouldn’t miss the way he wrapped presents so sloppily for her stocking, the presents themselves always perfect. Joan invariably gave her practical gifts, items that were useful. George always managed to choose things she actually wanted.
Sadie and Joan would spend the weekend with Andrew and Jared, and then Joan and Clara would go visit George on Christmas Day. Her father had wanted to see her, but Joan said no before Sadie even had to decide. She didn’t want Sadie to have a holiday memory of prison.
Sadie pulled on her sweatshirt and was shoving her phone in her pocket when she heard it beep again. She took a resigned breath before turning it over to
see if it was another one from Dorothy.
Kevin!
Be cool.
Dear Sadie, I hope you know how much I’ve adored getting to know you and really, you are such a sweet girl, and I want you to know how much you’ve impressed me with your strength. I hear you’ve moved back home; know you’ll always have a home with us. I attached a song I’ve been listening to lately, and it makes me think of you. It’s by Built to Spill. It’s probably old-guy music, but I think you’ll like it. The new book is going well here in Iowa. But don’t tell anyone. I don’t want to jinx it! Love, Kevin.
“Adored,” “sweet girl,” “impressed me,” “always have a home with.” No one had ever said things like this to her before. And he trusted her enough to talk about his new book. And he signed it with “Love, Kevin.” She downloaded the song immediately: “Things Fall Apart” by Built to Spill, a band she’d never heard of.
She read the email three times, loosening her warm running clothes before finally venturing outside. She ran as though propelled by the email, composing a perfect response in her head. When she got to the end of the road, she paused at the gate to the Coffee Hut, where she saw Amanda putting a tray of coffees on top of her car and opening the driver’s-side door. They looked at each other for a moment before Amanda motioned her over.
“You’re a fucking jogging lunatic!”
The party — the way Amanda’s sister had yelled at Sadie — sat between the two girls like a fence. Still, they pretended everything was fine, though they weren’t acting the way they normally would.
“Why haven’t you been coming to school?” Amanda put the tray in the car, taking one cup out and pulling back the tab.
“Well, I can’t deal, really.”
“Yeah, I get it. My sister hasn’t been going either. And someone told me Miranda went to rehab or something.”
“For what?”
“I have no idea,” she said, tapping her nose.
“Right,” Sadie said, stretching out her hamstring.
“Jimmy’s got a new nickname.”
“What?”
“Sulkboy.”
“Huh.”
“Seriously, the emo girls are lapping it up. You should be careful.”
“We’re on a break,” she said.
“I heard, yeah. Everyone’s talking about Avalon’s number one couple’s demise.”
Sadie tried to adjust her posture into who cares, who cares.
“I kinda got a new crush anyway.”
“Who?”
“He’s an older guy, you wouldn’t know him.”
“How old?”
“Twenties …” she lied.
“Uh, that’s kind of gross.”
“No it’s not. You’d get it if you met him.”
“Don’t ruin your life ’cause your dad’s in jail. Remember our pact: no babies, no husbands until we live far away from here.”
“I know. God!” It was a mistake telling her, Sadie thought. She definitely wouldn’t get it.
“Anyway, I better get going. I wouldn’t want any rumours getting back to my mom that we were seen canoodling.”
“Ha.”
“Actually,” Amanda said, noting a few cars pulling into the lot, “maybe we should just make out and give them all heart attacks.”
“I’ll pass, as hot as you are.”
“Yeah, yeah. I’m just not elderly enough for you.” Amanda laughed at her own joke and got in the car.
Sadie turned the volume up high on her music and silenced her phone’s other notification sounds. She ignored every human she saw, ignored the seven missed calls, and the texts from her mother asking her if she’d like lamb for dinner. She got lost in a reverie about her future life with Kevin. The famous author and his scandalously young girlfriend, doing her undergrad at Harvard, on his arm at fancy events in the evening. She would meet famous editors at dinner parties and write sassy first-person essays for their magazines. She ran until her face got hot and she felt like she might throw up, but the endorphin high was worth it.
When she stopped, she realized she was near Billy’s One-Stop Burgers and went in to pee. Her hands were red and swollen from the cold, and she had trouble catching her breath. When she came back out, she saw the same group of teenagers she’d seen last time, sitting on the tables outside, and approached them.
“Hey,” she said.
“You’re very sweaty,” said the girl with two green pigtails.
“It’s kind of hot,” said the blue-haired guy.
The girl poked him. “Don’t be gross.”
“I’m a runner. I ran from Woodbury Lake,” she explained. Despite this being a very long way away, neither kid seemed impressed.
“Winter running, hard-core,” said the girl. “I don’t run unless, you know, someone is chasing me. So, how’s celebrity life?”
Sadie couldn’t tell if she was being mocked or if the girl was nice.
“Could be worse,” she joked. “What’s your name?”
The girl lit a cigarette and scanned her. “Lena. I can’t believe you don’t recognize me. This is Jay.”
“Hey girl,” said Jay. His voice was feminine though he looked really tough, like he could drop-kick you and then say something really witty.
“I know, we met here when I was looking to score some weed,” Sadie said.
“No, man. Wow!” Lena rolled her eyes and looked at Jay. “You really don’t remember?”
“From where?”
“I was in your class at Avalon. Like, from kindergarten.”
“No you weren’t. I’d remember a green-haired girl.”
“It was brown before. I got kicked out for writing that story narrated by a school shooter. And I was, like, the only Asian in the school. So, you’re basically racist.”
“What? No, I’m not!”
“Just kidding, man. I was quiet. I get it.”
Jay looked her up and down. Sadie wondered if the blue hair meant he was gay. Maybe they both were. Or a couple. He was shy maybe, not too cool for school. Jay lit a joint and passed it to her. They shared it, talking about a tv show, a YouTube celebrity, their parents, normal teenage minutiae. She was happy for it.
“There’s going to be a party next week. You should come. Put your number in my phone.” She handed it to Sadie, who added her name.
Sadie couldn’t remember the last time she’d made a new friend.
if her dream of running away with Kevin came to pass, her friends could all be new. A rebirth. “Went for a run, met a new friend,” she wrote in her journal for Eleanor. “Thoughts about the future.” That looked positive, she reckoned.
She got home and realized she had missed her father’s call. Then she saw her mother sitting in the kitchen with Bennie and Andrew. There were papers between them.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize what time it was,” she said.
“You were jogging at nighttime? I don’t like that. It’s not safe. And it’s cold out.”
“The sun just went down,” she said. She touched her eyes. She was sure they were red and that it was obvious she was high. But no one seemed to notice. “Dad called?”
“Yes, he did. You know he always calls at the same time.”
“I’m sorry I missed it,” she said.
“It’s okay, you’re still a kid. It happens.”
Sadie pictured her father — lonely, in a cold cell — and her disregarding his happiness.
“I’m going to go to bed early. I think I’m coming down with something,” she said. No one was listening.
She went upstairs, and read a text from Jimmy as she got into bed. Come over when you’re back from New York. We’ll wear soft pants and play video games and Mom will make us eat all the cookies. It feels weird not to see you over the holidays. Please?
Sure, she texted back. That sounds sweet.
twenty-eight
joan and sadie spent the majority of the drive to New York City listening to a radio program about human limits. The limits of the body, the mind, the spirit. Neither was in the mood for the Christmas carols on the other stations. Joan felt relief for the distraction, and was glad to see that Sadie was able to just sit still and listen, something Joan hadn’t seen much evidence of lately. Her moods had been explosive after she’d moved home; one minute she’d be weeping with Payton on her lap, watching television — something she rarely used to do — and the next she was running outside, even though it was freezing, up and down the hill in the backyard. Joan was waking up an hour earlier than usual to prepare healthy meals, line up fish oil capsules and a multivitamin beside scraps of paper that read “I love you! Bean salad and quinoa in the fridge for your lunch! Back at 7 — chicken pot pie for dinner!” Joan used to hate that her mother would channel her concern for her as a child into food, but it was the only thing she could think to do for Sadie. Joan could spend only so many hours on the edge of her bed, asking her how she was feeling, waiting for the inevitable “Just leave me alone.” Joan didn’t blame her. It was a stupid question. How was anyone supposed to feel under the circumstances?
Andrew and Jared lived in the West Village in an apartment above a bookshop. Jared had inherited the lease from his ex-boyfriend, who’d been renting it since the 1970s. It was very small, but inexpensive for the area. Jared’s salon was right around the corner on West Tenth Street. The New York City of Joan’s youth, the one she had visited a few times a year for most of her young adult life until she had children, had disappeared. The Village was quiet and clean, full of designer dress shops, hair salons, juice bars, and coffee shops. Sadie and Joan gripped their matching purple canvas rolling suitcases and carried them up the narrow staircase to the second floor. The hallway smelled like a sweet insecticide that seemed to stick to Joan’s tongue. Sadie bounded up the stairs ahead of her, while Joan paused on the landing to catch her breath, gripping the glossy black railing. She hadn’t been exercising enough. Sadie knocked emphatically on the door.