The Comfort of Lies: A Novel

by Randy Susan Meyers

  “You’re early, Bobby,” Tia said. “It’s only three thirty.”

  He gave Mrs. Gomez a final pat and turned to Tia. “Good news. Guess what finally happened to yours truly today?”

  The entire room hushed, waiting to hear Bobby’s news. Even Sister Patrice looked up from the eternal paperwork that, in her words, damned the good sister to hell on earth.

  Tia’s stomach clutched. She had a bad feeling that she knew exactly what the good news would be.

  “I sold it! I did it, Tia!” Bobby did a little victory dance, shaking his shoulders back and forth. He smothered Tia in a bear hug. “Easy street, baby. That’s where we’re headed,” he whispered. “Easy street.”

  • • •

  “You won the boss lottery, baby,” Bobby said.

  He put his hand on the small of her back and led her toward the bridge in the Public Garden. Everything about this oasis of well-tended trees, shrubs, and flowers whispered romance, a Renoir come alive.

  “It’s not like she gave me the key to the city; she let me out an hour early.”

  “But still, she’s always good to you.”

  “Aren’t I good to her?” Tia asked.

  “Why are you biting my head off, baby?”

  Oh, that was surely the question. With anyone else, Tia would be nodding her head off as she agreed how wonderful Sister Patrice had been since she took the job. Tia stopped at the foot of the bridge.

  “Please don’t call me baby, okay?” Tia asked. “I told you it drives me nuts.”

  Bobby’s face went blank, and Tia hated herself.

  “Because that’s what I remember my father calling my mother. It’s painful.”

  The lie brought life back to Bobby. He stood straighter and gave her a brotherly peck on her cheek. “Sorry, baby. Oops. Last time. Scout’s honor.” He held three fingers in the air.

  She nodded and gave a weak smile. They reached the middle of the bridge and stopped, looking out at the calm lagoon. The Swan Boats, Boston’s famed paddleboats, lazed over the water.

  “This is exquisite,” Tia said. She swept her hand in a circle, taking in the lush greenery, the happy families waiting on line, the flowers everywhere.

  “You’re exquisite.”

  Bobby loved her too much. She feared that the moment she melted back, he’d harden. That she’d been his unattainable dream. Worship never lasted.

  “Look,” Tia changed the subject. “The swans.”

  “You know what their names are?” Bobby answered his own question before Tia could speak. “Romeo and Juliet.”

  She pressed her lips together. She’d read that the famed Public Garden’s swans were, in fact, both female, despite their Shakespearean heritage.

  “Things can really move for us now.” Bobby tipped up her face and kissed her. “This deal will change everything.”

  “To you, Bobby.” Tia tipped an imaginary hat. “Condo king! And in this market!”

  “I know, I know.” He beamed. “I can’t believe I finally got all the financing.”

  Tia tried to imagine his Realtor persona; did he keep his “Aw shucks,” or was there a shark inside Bobby, one that took giant bites before a client even noticed? Or did his patience make the deals happen?

  “This deal has teetered on the brink for ages, but I believed in it . . . honey,” he said.

  “I know.” Tia gripped the iron railing.

  “You know what this means, don’t you?”

  “That you’ll be a big shot with a pocket full of money?”

  Bobby grinned. He was a good guy. A real guy.

  “That too,” he said. “But that’s not what I meant. It’s going to take plenty of dough to fight for custody.”

  He patted his chest as though a million-dollar check nestled in his pocket; as though the money were already in the bank. “And now we have it.”

  Tia imagined the condo where they’d live in the new development. Bobby would pick out the best one. They’d wake each morning to the ocean view spread out just for them. In the summer, she and Savannah would only have to cross the street to go swimming.

  It was such a beautiful dream. She’d thought about it every time Bobby brought it up, which he did repeatedly, even as she tried to back away. Nuts. It would be purely insane. Still. She’d pictured holding Savannah’s warm hand as they shopped for school clothes. The vision of Savannah swinging between her and Bobby, holding both their hands, was the sweetest thing she could imagine. As was taking her girl to meet Bobby’s parents. They lived in the same house on K Street where he’d grown up. They’d probably saved all his toys.

  She and Bobby could have a sister for Savannah. Two sisters. A dozen. Tia still felt the loneliness of being an only child. If not for Robin, would she have a soul to turn to?

  If only she could make it all up, have a do-over. She’d never have given her away.

  She still hadn’t told Bobby about the day she and Nathan went to see Savannah. He still didn’t have a clue that Nathan had come back in her life, however tangentially.

  Instead of living clean, she was building a new set of secrets.

  “Not that I’m saying we have to go to court right away.” He studied her. “But the sooner the better, right? Look: it’s about having options—that’s the important thing in life. Knowing you can. Whatever you think is right, that’s what we’ll do. But she’s not getting any younger. The sooner it happens, the easier it will be on her.”

  “I’m not ready to jump in yet,” she said. “But the fact that you care . . . that’s worth as much as anything I’ve ever gotten.”

  Tia looked to her left and saw children climbing on the bronze duck statues honoring the beloved Boston’s children’s book Make Way for Ducklings. Mothers and fathers looked on with adoration.

  “Tia?” She looked back. Bobby held out a closed fist. “Can this be worth something to you also?” He opened his hand to reveal a black velvet box, using his thumb to flip it open, as though he’d practiced for this moment. “From this day forward, I want our decisions to be made together.”

  A large diamond framed with a square of tiny sparkling ones, so bright it caught even the soft light of the cloudy day, shone at Tia. She longed to wear it. Women with diamonds on their finger showed the world they belonged. How much someone loved them.

  Bobby took her hand. He slipped the ring on her finger. It fit. Cool metal kissed her flesh. She looked down at her left hand. She spread her fingers, trying to see the dazzling ring and not her bitten fingernails.

  “What do you say? Will you marry me?” Bobby asked. “Be my family? Let me be yours? Bring your baby home?”

  His head tipped to the side in anticipation, and he bit his lip as he waited for her answer. After a moment, he answered for her. “Don’t say a thing. Just wear it for a couple of days—a week.” He grinned. “Maybe a month. Try it on. It might feel better than you think.”

  She felt the weight of the ring, probably worth more than everything she owned all added up together. A haze of sun caught the diamond and refracted it into a rainbow.

  Tia moved her hand to the right to catch more of the sun. Her mother would have loved this ring. She’d have loved knowing Tia had Savannah back. And she’d have loved Bobby.

  • • •

  Once Bobby fell asleep, she slipped into the living room. What if she had Savannah here right now? What if she did what Bobby wanted? What about when he wasn’t with them? Would she be a prisoner of the house?

  How old did they have to be before you could leave them alone for a few minutes? How long before you stopped needing babysitters? She’d probably have to stop working, right? Although she’d need a job to prove her worthiness to the court.

  But how about after? Would Bobby expect her to quit? Tia remembered sitting in a dark living room after school watching television. When Robin came into her life, she at least had someone with whom she could share the shows, but it was still lonely in the house. Just the two of them.

 
Not that they’d be only two, right? She’d have Bobby.

  • • •

  “You’re going to marry him? Move back to Southie? Are you nuts?”

  “Why can’t you just be happy for me, Robin?”

  “Oh, okay. Here I am being happy!”

  “What are you drinking?” Tia asked. The Skype screen showed Robin holding a glass, toasting Tia via computer.

  “White wine.”

  “In a jelly glass?”

  “I don’t have a set of wedding china like you’re gonna get. Sorry.”

  “What time is it there?” Tia whispered. It was midnight in Jamaica Plain. Bobby had fallen asleep hours ago, after a celebratory bout of lovemaking that had nearly made Tia cry. Bobby had been so tender, treating her like a crystal figurine.

  “Nine. Can’t you ever remember the time difference?”

  “Not really.” Tia finished off her glass of straight whiskey.

  “Is this what you want?” Robin asked.

  Tia pressed her lips together and concentrated on the image of crossing Day Boulevard with Savannah to get to see the gentle lapping of Dorchester Bay’s calm water. She felt Savannah’s small hand resting in hers. She imagined Savannah wearing a blue bathing suit dotted with white stars, one that Bobby’s sister, now Savannah’s Auntie Eileen, would buy her new niece.

  “Tia, Tia,” Robin called.

  Tia closed her eyes.

  “Are you crying?”

  Tia shook her head.

  “Yes you are. I see it.”

  Tia shrugged.

  “Are you alone?”

  “No,” Tia whispered. “Yes.”

  CHAPTER 35

  Juliette

  Juliette clutched the wheel in a death grip as she drove down the snaky Jamaicaway. The four-lane parkway had no business being any wider than one line of traffic in each direction. Even a fractional error seemed likely to result in a headfirst crash into an oncoming car. There were only inches between the traffic lanes, traffic lights came up with brake-screeching frequency, and cyclists veered off their designated path as though the entire concept of bike lanes were only places for the cyclists’ brief respites from their mission of torturing drivers.

  The last time she’d driven this road, she’d been on her way to spy on Tia. Not a good memory.

  At least today, Nathan knew her destination. The relief of not hiding her meeting with Caroline offered at least some small reprieve for her jangled nerves. Each time she tried to form an adequate apology for having burst into Caroline’s life, it sounded either insane or insipid.

  My mind snapped?

  My deepest apologies?

  I became unhinged?

  Anger had turned to sorrow, and now, calmer, if sadder, Juliette could see what she’d done to Caroline, scheming like a character in a low-rent version of Fatal Attraction. Her cheeks became hot at the memory.

  Inviting Caroline to a free juliette&gwynne session? Offering treacly sympathy and manipulating her maternal worry? What the hell had Juliette wanted or expected? Jesus. It was a miracle that Caroline had agreed to meet with her today.

  “Come on. Give yourself a break,” Nathan had said when they spoke on the phone last night. Lately, they’d talked nightly. It reminded her of when they first dated, with her living in Boston and him in Rhinebeck. “Maybe the miracle isn’t that she’s seeing you but that you’re willing to go and say you’re sorry. You realize that most people would write an email, right?”

  Nathan’s genius for reassuring her had become magnified when she no longer had it on tap. She couldn’t access equilibrium without him. People spoke of their husbands and wives as being their best friends, but with Nathan, it felt more essential. Without him, her stability was missing. Friends described feeling that way after their parents died, but Juliette never found comfort or constancy with her mother or father. Only with Nathan had she found an emotional home.

  Once again she was reading up on marriage, divorce, adultery, and children—the past five years had borne a new crop of these books. At this point, Juliette hated any sentence containing the word acknowledge or repair. She wanted to throw the tiresome books out the window. Why didn’t they offer something useful, like instructions for how to permanently wash another woman’s handprints off her husband’s body?

  In the end, it came down to two simple declarative sentences:

  1. She loved and missed Nathan.

  2. She didn’t know if she had the forgiveness in her to make it work.

  Father’s Day had come and gone. She’d promised herself she’d make her decision before then, but she broke that pledge. Instead she made list after list. Gwynne repeated ad nauseam that Juliette should take as long as she needed. Her mother insisted the time was long overdue for her to “stop this nonsense and get your husband home,” while her father urged her to be logical about the decision.

  Did logical mean following her heart or her pro-and-con list? Yesterday she’d done what some book suggested, setting a timer for three minutes and then writing out a pro-and-con list without thinking about or judging anything she put on paper.

  Con

  Pro

  Trust gone?

  Love.

  No clarity about Savannah.

  Kids.

  Freedom from feelings.

  Family.

  Worry about future.

  Security.

  He lied.

  I miss him.

  He hid important things.

  I still miss him.

  What if he leaves me?

  No guarantees in life.

  Juliette parked the car on a side street lined with Victorian homes, happy for a few moments to calm down before meeting Caroline. She passed the old Boston Children’s Museum, now condos, and a former convent, now condos, and then pushed the signal button to cross the busy Jamaicaway.

  Jamaica Pond in August looked like a pastoral postcard from 1895—until you noticed white iPod buds in the runners’ ears, dogs straining on leashes, baby carriages specially made to accommodate exercising parents, and T-shirts proclaiming everything from Red Sox Nation to Save Nine Inch Nails.

  Juliette shaded her eyes as she searched for Caroline in the glary afternoon sun. Squinting, she saw her waving from a large gazebo perched above the water. A weathered boathouse to the left completed the perfect picture.

  After breathing deep for bravery, Juliette climbed up the steps to where Caroline stood.

  “Thanks for meeting me.” Juliette held out her hand, grateful when Caroline held it for more than a brief second.

  “Do you want to walk or sit?” Caroline asked. “It’s shady here, but I’m happy to get a bit of exercise while we talk.”

  “Your choice,” Juliette said.

  “I’d liked to stretch my legs.” Caroline gave a small smile. “It’s just one and half miles around. I don’t think we’ll get in much trouble, no matter what you’ve come to talk about.”

  Juliette smiled back. “Sounds good. We’ll make the—what?—twenty-minute commitment?”

  Caroline placed a baseball cap on her head and slipped on the sunglasses that had been tucked in the breast pocket of her white oxford shirt. “Let’s go.”

  Small talk seemed ridiculous at the moment, but Juliette, social discomfort pressing from all angles, made an attempt. “How was the place?”

  They’d met here because it was close to a house a Realtor was showing Caroline. Moving from Dover to Jamaica Plain? That was surely a story, but not one Juliette felt any right to delve into except for polite conversation patter.

  “Fine.” Caroline’s face became animated, fine seeming to hold far more than the word would imply, but then she pressed her lips together as though clamping down on whatever response had been close to coming out. “I don’t want to jinx it.”

  “I understand.” Actually, she didn’t, but Juliette didn’t want Caroline to feel compelled to lead the conversation. This was her responsibility to carry. She took in her surroundi
ngs, buying a moment by studying the park ranger’s horse encircled by enchanted children. A small boy extended a tentative hand toward the animal’s chestnut brown flank.

  “I came to apologize.” Juliette spilled the words in a rush. Might as well dive right in. “My . . . my need for information led me to acting unbelievably inappropriately.”

  Caroline stopped walking. She turned toward Juliette and tipped her head. “That’s one way to put it.” The corners of Caroline’s mouth softened her mocking words. “Inappropriate. That’s what my mother would say to describe serving chocolate in the summer sun.”

  “That doesn’t sound so inappropriate,” Juliette said. “I love chocolate. Even soft and melted.”

  Caroline shivered. “Ugh. I’m picturing a Hershey bar coating my fingers.”

  “And I’m picturing licking it from my fingers. We’re different.”

  “We are.” Caroline began walking again. Juliette fell into step, matching Caroline’s clipped cadence.

  “Really, though.” Juliette looked ahead as she spoke. “I’m sorry. I was a lunatic. Just thinking about it makes me want to die.”

  “I can imagine,” Caroline said.

  Juliette appreciated the sardonic response. Polite bullshit was the last thing she wanted. “Not that it’s an excuse,” she said. “But when I learned about Savannah, when I opened the letter from Tia, the world turned upside down, and I felt like my family, my marriage, that everything was about to fall off the face of the earth.”

  Caroline nodded without comment.

  “Look, I’m not asking for forgiveness. At least I hope not. You owe me nothing. I was awful to you. To Savannah. Your husband. Deceiving you like that . . . ” Juliette let her words drift off.

  “Do you have a background in the CIA or something?” Caroline asked. “You did quite a job on short notice.”

  “I don’t know where it came from.”

  “Remind me to never cross you,” Caroline said. “It was bad enough just being in the cross fire. Your children are pretty lucky, though.”

  “Why?”