If You Must Know

by Beck, Jamie

  Even when you don’t cross him. “So he never loved me.” The words fell from my lips without thought.

  “Honey, you can’t look at it that way.” Mr. Foster continued. “He probably cared about you as much as he can care about anyone, but Lyle’s all about Lyle. He’ll turn on you, beat you down, and make you feel guilty if you do or say anything to challenge him. Everything he does ultimately is about propping up his ego.”

  Bit by bit the images of my relationship reshuffled through this dark filter as the subtle ways Lyle had let his disapprovals and disappointments be known in order to pull my strings.

  “Not sure if he was born that way or his mom created a monster, but he’s not right in the head.” Lyle’s dad coughed.

  I remained reluctant to confirm that statement—whether because of what it said about Lyle or about me I couldn’t be sure.

  “Even so, I never kicked my son out. He left because I saw through him. He’s got a gift for lying. Tells you ninety percent of the truth, then twists that last ten percent to change the whole context. Been getting away with that since he was six. I warned Meggie, but she didn’t see it, or didn’t want to. In her eyes, her little Lyle was perfect. That’s what she told him every day, all the while making a million excuses for his bad behavior.” He sighed. “You got kids?”

  Unsure of his trustworthiness, I told a half truth of the ilk he’d bemoaned, which made me feel worse. “Not yet.”

  “Well, good. They aren’t always a blessing. And like I told that Deanna, Lyle should never be anybody’s father. Not unless he gets help.”

  My ears suddenly felt boxed as I sat there breathless and glad for the chair beneath me. “Do Deanna and Lyle have children?”

  Willa deserved to know if she had a half sibling, even if it wasn’t clear whether that would be good or bad news.

  “No. She annulled the marriage before it got that far. I only know that much because he threatened me after he found out about our conversation. Then he left Michigan. Haven’t heard from him in a little more than three years.”

  So Lyle had moved here immediately after that fight, found his new patsy—me—and started a new life. Bad enough he left me for Ebba, but now it seemed our entire relationship had been a lie, all the way back to those first “I love yous.” Fresh tears threatened at yet another loss. Did the fact that I wanted to believe he’d once loved me make me a head case? “I’m sorry.”

  “What are you sorry about, girl? You haven’t done anything wrong other than maybe turn a blind eye.”

  Turned a blind eye. Dragged my family into a web of lies. Given my baby a monster for a father. “I’m sorry I bothered you with my problems, but thanks for your time.”

  “You sound like a nice girl. My best advice is to leave my son and find a good man.” His words sounded remarkably like something my own father might say to a woman in my situation. At least my father would never see how spectacularly I’d been snowed, and how the entire family was suffering for my mistake.

  Lyle’s dad had been so forthcoming I almost mentioned my pregnancy, then decided to first have Stan verify what I’d been told and learn more about Mr. Foster.

  The ball in my throat made swallowing a challenge. “Thank you.”

  “Take care.” He hung up unceremoniously, as if we’d talked about the weather or his favorite book.

  Meanwhile, my body was numb. I couldn’t connect all the lies to the truth of my life, or maybe it was the other way around—I couldn’t connect the truth with the lies of my life. In the jumble only one truth stood out. When you pour everything you have into a belief, letting it go is like killing a part of yourself, even when you know it’s the only way to survive. Somehow I had to perform a sort of lobotomy yet remain whole enough to mother my daughter.

  My phone vibrated, dancing across the table. Erin. I waited for it to drop to voice mail, then, a minute later, learned that my mother had driven her car through the garage door.

  I never swore, but—Fuck. This. Day.

  “Think Mom’ll give Dr. Blount the same cold shoulder she’s giving us?” Erin bent to tie her bright-red Converse high-tops, unconcerned with whether others in the waiting room were listening.

  “She’s never rude to strangers.” Frayed patience made me huff, but Erin took it in stride. I hadn’t yet told her about Lyle’s father, because I could manage only one crisis at a time. “Let’s be thankful Dr. Blount squeezed her in today.”

  “How’d you get that kind of pull?” Erin stood and shook out her hands—a longtime restless habit.

  “Her special-needs son was in my first-grade class two years ago. We got particularly close when a difficult student took to bullying Robbie on the playground.”

  “Flippin’ bullies. Will there ever be a day when people stop demanding that others conform to their own expectations?” Before I could reply, she said, “Let’s go downstairs to that little café and grab something while we wait.”

  “Sure.”

  Once we reached the café, I hunted for a table while Erin searched for something satisfying.

  She met me a few minutes later, having purchased seltzer and a chocolate chip muffin, and a milk for me. “Should we have told the doctor all of the circumstances Mom’s facing?”

  “Today is only a baseline neurological and memory assessment. We mentioned extreme stress. The source can’t be as relevant as the fact that it exists, can it? Plus she was already upset. I didn’t want to embarrass her more.” Bit by bit, I shredded a paper napkin. “Let’s pray that it’s only our current situation that’s causing Mom’s absentmindedness. At least that can be fixed.”

  Erin made a doubtful face before popping the tab on her can.

  “What?”

  She shrugged. “Grandpa had dementia . . . but even if Mom’s trouble is situational, there’s no guarantee that will resolve anytime soon, or ever. We both know Lyle could get away with it, especially if you don’t involve the authorities. Then she’ll be depressed and broke. She needs rainy-day money for another twenty to thirty years—”

  “You think I don’t know that?” I snapped, suspecting a part of Erin was enjoying my fall from grace.

  She set down what remained of her muffin. “Don’t bark at me because you don’t like the facts. We need to be realistic so we can figure stuff out. I can kick in some rent to help, but my living at home is not a long-term solution. And even with me there, accidents still happen.”

  “Clearly.” I twisted the cap off the milk and swallowed a gulp while shifting the guilt from myself back to her.

  Erin winced. “You think you can do better? Be my guest.”

  “I’m sorry.” I set the milk down, ashamed and exhausted. I didn’t want to be at odds with Erin. I’d never wanted that, yet we’d never learned how to break that cycle. “I’m not myself today.”

  Erin relaxed into her seat. “I thought you looked pasty. Maybe you should get checked out, too.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “But the baby . . .” Erin bit her lower lip, genuine concern in her eyes.

  Trusting my sister had never been easy, but in a single year I’d lost my father and my husband, and was now facing the possibility of slowly losing my mother as well. Erin and I needed to become friends. If we’d managed that sooner, I might’ve trusted her instincts about Lyle from the beginning. Although it felt as if I were flinging myself in front of a bus, I pushed myself to try. “If I tell you something, will it stay between us?”

  Erin tugged at her earlobe, grimacing. “The part of me that can’t imagine anything worse than what I already know doesn’t want to hear another word. But you obviously need someone to talk to, so hit me with it. I promise to keep it in the vault.”

  “It turns out that Lyle not only lied to me about his childhood, but he was also married before.”

  Erin’s eyes narrowed, but she didn’t look shocked. “Did Stan find this out?”

  I walked her through my conversation with Lyle’s father, stomach tight in
anticipation of snarky comments and a series of eye rolls. She remained thoughtfully silent instead. I sat back, hands clasped together and resting on the table. “I expected an ‘I told you so.’ You always said Lyle was too good to be true.”

  My sister wouldn’t meet my gaze. Seeing her acting uncomfortable in her own skin—something rarer than a pay phone—unnerved me.

  “I’m not happy to have been right. I wish I would’ve . . . spoken up more.” Finally she met my gaze. “A narcissist. What does that really mean?”

  “Trust me, I’ll be doing some homework.”

  Erin waved a hand. “Don’t look back, Amanda. We can’t change past mistakes, so let’s deal with the facts and move forward.”

  That MO did not surprise me, nor did it persuade me. I never charged ahead without first understanding how I’d arrived at where I was.

  “Did you file for divorce?” she asked.

  I rubbed my forehead. “I know I should, but I’m paralyzed. He’s taken most of our money. I don’t have a full-time job or health insurance—and I’m about to give birth. I don’t even control my home, because we’re both on the deed. How will I raise this baby now? I’m ill-equipped, and for the first time in my life, I’ve got no options.”

  “You have options. Your old boss loves you. Start subbing, and sooner or later you’ll get rehired. Mom and I will help with the baby. Kev will help you with the legal stuff . . .”

  Her matter-of-fact delivery made it all sound easy, but she’d ignored my emotionally crippled state. The code I’d believed in—the golden rule I’d lived by—had failed me. Without that life road map, I couldn’t navigate ahead. “Lyle strung me along these past weeks. I’m mortified by the hours I’ve wasted thinking about how to forgive him. And just when I was feeling a little stronger, the full depth of his deception has knocked me down again.” I looked at the ceiling, blinking to stave off fresh tears, thinking it a miracle my body could still produce them. “I don’t know how you live on the edge of constant uncertainty without getting an ulcer.”

  Erin snorted. “Gee, thanks. As backhanded compliments go, I suppose that wasn’t the worst.”

  I reached for her hand and then released it. “I didn’t mean to insult you. Sorry. My brain is fried today.”

  “Fix it, because we need to call Kevin. I know you wanted to wait for info from Dr. Blount before we filled him in, but that could take days. At least make him happier by giving him the green light on preparing divorce papers.”

  I hung my head. Lyle was sailing around with Ebba, sipping wine and laughing at me, while my sister and I sat in a medical-center lobby worrying about our mother, who was falling apart because of that man. “I know my marriage is over, but it’s hard to admit to failure.”

  “Take it from me, it gets easier with practice.” Erin smiled, joking to make me feel better. “You didn’t fail. He did, and somehow we will make him pay for it.”

  A new knot tightened in my chest. Vengeance had never before been part of my vernacular, but loathing born of humiliation was premium fuel for that kind of bloodlust. The hatred in my heart scared me. “I’ll tell Kevin to file the papers.”

  Something in my expression must’ve cued Erin in to my thoughts. “How about we start by torching all Lyle’s stuff?”

  “I need to sell it to help pay the bills.” I rubbed my stomach because connecting with Willa reminded me of my one remaining spot of joy.

  “Ever practical. This is why you’re the smart one with options.” Erin set her chin on her fists. “You know if I had more money, I’d help you.”

  I could hardly meet her gaze. We’d probably relied on each other more these past weeks than during the past ten years. Not for the first time, I promised myself it wouldn’t take tragedies to push me to do better. “Thank you.”

  “Kevin could probably lend you some money until you can sell your house.”

  I shook my head. “Proving ‘spousal abandonment’ won’t be quick. The bank will foreclose before I jump through all the legal hoops to sell the house without Lyle’s consent. My best chance to avoid bankruptcy is to negotiate with Lyle to cosign a listing agreement as part of a deal to keep Mom from filing charges.”

  “Back to illegal deals?” Erin shook her head, all camaraderie fading. “Normally, I’d applaud any decision that went against your lifetime of rule following, but not this.”

  “Please let’s not argue. You know I’d never consider it if any other option would restore Mom’s finances and protect Willa’s future. Honestly, it’s more like a plea bargain than a crime. Once the cops get involved, Lyle could enter into a deal for lesser charges or even somehow escape conviction. Either way, the assets seized will sit and lose value. I’ll lose the equity in my house and still have to deal with him on custody issues. The rumors might even make it hard for me to get a job in this school district. Isn’t his freedom a small price to pay for closure on those other things? Everyone wins.”

  “Everyone including the asswipe with the ‘Get Out of Jail Free’ card.” Erin slouched low in her seat, her brows pulled together.

  “I can’t indulge my ego when I’ve got to look out for Mom and Willa. The truth is, there aren’t any clear-cut answers.”

  Erin guzzled the rest of her seltzer before crumpling the can in her hands. “I know how much you hate that.”

  “Who doesn’t?”

  “The lawyers . . . They live for that shit.” Erin chuckled. I shouldn’t have laughed with her, but joking did provide a little relief. “So let’s talk about this Nancy Thompson business. Are you up for doing that with Mom? Because I’m not.”

  “Of all of us, I’d expect you to be the most open to it.”

  Erin shot me a deadpan expression. “Why? Because I like yoga?”

  “Sort of?” I wrinkled my nose. But that wasn’t the truth. “You were especially close to Dad. I would’ve thought you’d jump at a chance to hear from him if possible.”

  “Key words—‘if possible.’”

  She didn’t deny their special connection, and I appreciated that honesty even though it still stung. We both knew which of us was each parent’s pet. The difference was that she didn’t yearn to be equal in Mom’s eyes, while I’d always resented the way Erin had taken my place with my dad, even if it hadn’t been her intention. After all, she hadn’t asked to be born. Had she and I been closer, maybe her relationship with Dad wouldn’t have smarted. I don’t know, and never will. In any case, I was a little curious about Nancy. “You still don’t believe, even after what happened with your friend?”

  “That made it worse. Nancy knows Mom will believe anything she tells us now.” Erin twirled her can round and round, staring at it with a scowl. “I can’t explain this morning’s ‘message,’ but it’s too convenient, right? We’re to accept that Eli’s wife’s spirit passed a message to Nancy at the precise moment Eli walked by? I mean, magic is awesome, but people aren’t actually cut in half in a box and put back together. Unless Dad comes over a speakerphone or whispers in my ear, I’m not interested in what Nancy’s selling.”

  Her topsy-turvy thought process revealed a weird logic, but with the anniversary of Dad’s death on the horizon, and everything in our lives in limbo, the part of me that respected my father’s advice was willing to roll the dice. Then again, Eli hadn’t enjoyed receiving his message.

  We’d spent enough time talking about me. I wanted to change the subject. “Mom never explained why Eli was there in the first place.”

  “He showed up for yoga.” A wistful sparkle lit her eyes. “After class, he offered to carry the heavy moving box upstairs for me. Then Nancy dropped the K-bomb, and kapow.” She emphasized the explosion with her hands.

  “That had to be a huge shock. Will you check on him?”

  “I can’t barge in on him while he’s processing potential messages from the grave. Plus”—she pointed her index finger at me—“and don’t you ever tell Mom I said this . . . she made a good point about him still being hung up on hi
s wife. With everything else going on now, romance seems ill-fated.”

  We certainly had bigger crises to contend with, but Erin’s tempering her impulses rocked me. “I disagree.”

  She cocked her head, peering at me. “I expected you to be proud of me for ‘cooling my heels,’ as Mom might say.”

  “Normally I might, but maybe we’d all be happier if one of us found some joy. What’s more joyful than new romance? Plus the fact that Eli is still devoted to his wife speaks well of his capacity for commitment and love.” Unlike my husband, who had no problem changing wives as often as some women changed their shoes.

  “He does seem gentle and kind.” The little upturn of her mouth gave me a pang. I missed feeling that way about Lyle. Erin said, “If you ever meet him, you’ll sense it.”

  Doubtful. I’d fallen for Lyle, so my “sense” for good men was faulty, which meant I should mind my own business.

  “On second thought, you’re probably right not to push, especially when you’ve never been particularly interested in something more permanent. He’s been hurt badly, so you couldn’t walk away so easily like you did with Max.”

  Erin rapped her knuckles on the table, frowning. “I put up with Max’s crap for months before I finally ended things.”

  “All I meant was that Eli’s vulnerable now. Don’t toy with his heart on an impulse.”

  Her eyes drifted upward as she sighed. “Not everyone throws their whole heart in the ring from the get-go.”

  “No, but from what you’ve described, he sounds more like me than you.”

  Erin slumped back in her chair. “Well, then there’s no problem, because he’d get annoyed by me, anyway.”

  Her tone had been light, but she wouldn’t have said it if on some level she didn’t believe that she annoyed me sometimes. A sad fact, but if she were being honest, she’d admit that irritation ran in both directions. My reluctance to take risks and her disinterest in domestic pastimes left us with little to share. By the time we’d reached adulthood, we’d accepted it and carved out parallel lives that intersected for family events.