Forget You Know Me

by Jessica Strawser

  “I keep lists for lots of things,” she said. “Groceries. Errands. Reasons I should move out at the soonest opportunity.” The teasing came out of habit, but the instant she said it she knew she wasn’t ready to go. Three weeks had passed, though, almost a month—they’d be within their rights to ask her to move on.

  “I have that list, too,” he said dryly. “We should compare notes. Wonder if you thought of any I missed.”

  “Doubt it.”

  He shook his head, turning serious again. “The fire ladders were one thing, but this … are you okay, Sis?” The verbal sparring was more familiar for both of them than the heart-to-heart, and hers sank, knowing he wouldn’t attempt this lightly.

  “Of course I’m okay.”

  “Are you, though? It’s understandable if you’re not. But we can’t help if you don’t open up. A lot has happened in a short time.”

  She hadn’t really hidden the way she was feeling, had she? Maybe a little, but mostly they’d just been preoccupied with other things. More important things.

  “You’ve even—maybe—lost your best friend,” he continued. “My personal thoughts on Molly notwithstanding, I know this isn’t how you ever imagined coming back.”

  She averted her eyes. She was touched, in a way, that he’d ask. But that didn’t mean she wanted to talk about it. “Look,” she said. “Today I’m just happy for you guys. Can’t we just enjoy it for a minute?” He looked uncertain, and she mustered her best encouraging smile. “Come on. I even have presents. For Steph and baby.” She reached down for the bags and flopped them onto the bed between them.

  “Aww, you didn’t have to do that.” He returned the smile. Success. “Can I peek?”

  “Peek away.”

  Rustling the tissue paper in the gift bag, he took out the monitor’s box and held it in both hands, his head bowed over the package, reading the features.

  For an uncomfortably long time.

  She cleared her throat. “I know you’ll want to pick things yourselves, but this is top-of-the-line. Every feature you could possibly want.”

  When he looked up at her, his eyes did not hold gratitude. Instead, they reflected something between sadness and suspicion, and her breath caught. What had she done wrong?

  “You celebrated the end of us monitoring a complication by giving us a way to monitor for more complications?” The words sounded strained, pulled taut across astonishment and anger and disgust, and she drew back, caught off guard.

  “Everyone has a baby monitor, Luke. I just got the best one—”

  “This monitors vital signs, Liza. It’s for parents who are freaked out about SIDS. Regular monitors just let you know if the baby is awake. They don’t check for you that your kid is still alive.” He was looking at her as if she’d lost her mind. “You literally just asked if we could just be happy for a day—this is your way of being happy for a day? Jumping straight to the next thing we should worry about?”

  “No!” Was that what she was doing? If she’d thought of it in those terms even for a fleeting instant, she’d have chosen something else. “You’re blowing this out of proportion. It’s not about worrying; it’s about peace of mind. That’s even what the store display was called.”

  Luke shook his head and held the box in front of her face, tapping angrily on its logo. “The second you see this, you feel like you’re supposed to be worried your baby will die.” He dropped it back into the bag. “We just got done with that. I appreciate the gesture, but please. Take it back.”

  “Luke—”

  “Liza, we’ve honestly liked having you here. But if you’re really keeping a list of reasons you shouldn’t stay, put this at the top. Whatever paranoid tendencies you’re fighting in the wake of this fire, do not force them onto my expectant wife. Do not force them onto me.” He tossed her notepad back onto the nightstand, where it jostled the tulips in their vase. “Nobody wants to think about this stuff. And neither should you.”

  “It’s like bringing an umbrella…,” she said weakly. But she could see there was no point in finishing the thought.

  “I don’t think safeguarding against premature death is like expecting rain,” he said. “Seriously, Liza. Maybe you should talk to somebody. A professional. I’m not good at this.”

  She shook her head. “Not my thing.”

  “It doesn’t have to be a traditional counselor. Even some kind of—I don’t know, meditation or something. Something to calm your brain down.”

  She hesitated, reeling from how poorly she’d misjudged the gift, the situation, her brother’s whole point of view. She still wasn’t sure Luke wasn’t overreacting, but even so, she felt awful—because when it came to being a houseguest, egregious offenses were in the eye of the beholder, and she owed the beholder a lot. It didn’t matter at this moment which one of them was right. It mattered that Luke was upset with her and she desperately didn’t want him to be. “Molly did offer to take me to a class…,” she began, against her better judgment.

  He looked surprised. “So you’ve made up? You and Max said that dinner was a disaster.”

  “It was. And no, we didn’t make up. But Daniel latched on to this idea of her taking me to this thing.”

  “Was he wanting you to go along to help Molly, or Molly to help you?” Liza thought back to the common denominator between that conversation and this one. Damn it. When she didn’t answer, Luke nodded. “Maybe you could do it for me. I need to feel like you’re doing something. Besides buying fire ladders.”

  She bristled, suddenly furious not with Luke, but with Henry. Damn his theories, his misguided attempts to put training for the air into practice on the ground. Maybe when it came to what was and was not a good idea, she couldn’t trust herself just now. It was disconcerting to have something that had seemed so right turn out to be absolutely wrong, yet again. She was starting to think she could put her whole friendship with Molly in that column, let alone her time in Chicago, her efforts since returning home …

  She grabbed the baby’s gift bag and jammed it underneath the bed, where Steph wouldn’t see. At least she had the chocolate to show for herself. She might not be operating independently very well, but hey, she could follow instructions.

  “I’ll call Molly,” she said.

  Only a fool would have believed she was looking forward to it, but Luke did her the courtesy of pretending.

  24

  He’d had a few days to stop reeling, but Daniel was still processing what this could mean.

  He knew now for certain why Molly hadn’t told him about the intruder. Why she’d shut the door in Liza’s face the next morning, running away with her feet firmly in place. And why—for some reason, this poked under his skin most of all—Rick had given him the damn book, ostensibly to help him help Molly.

  He’d seen all of it and more on Molly’s face when Max made that crass joke at dinner. No, no one had been caught off guard by a sex-on-call delivery boy. But a lover? She’d flinched as if a searchlight had landed on her, and Daniel had thought, No, certainly not, but, Then again, that explains everything, followed by, But who? The only logical answer he could think of was at the other end of the footpath leading out of their backyard and through the woods to someone else’s.

  Had the affair been under way or just getting started? Either way, the outcome was the same: Molly spinning into a frenzy of trying to cover up something that had no cover. Rick backpedaling—had he and Molly cooled things off for now or for good?—and trying to make nice with Daniel out of, what, proximity?

  Looking back, maybe Daniel had suspected, even before the incident. He’d just resisted acknowledging his mistrust, his fears—even as they turned up the volume on his wake-up call, even as they egged him on into his subsequent about-face. He couldn’t very well confront the fact that Molly may have strayed without owning up to the circumstances that may have led her to. And he hadn’t wanted to do that; he’d only wanted to find a reset button for them both.

  He hadn’t
wised up yet, back then, to what a bad idea it was to kick things into gear with a shortsighted plan and hope they’d turn his way from there.

  But he was wiser now.

  Daniel had risked so much for Molly. His conscience—or was it just selfish paranoia?—had turned on him at the office. When Jules snagged him the best donut before the vultures descended on the box, or proudly showed him her daughter’s senior pictures, he’d think of how much she’d detest him if she knew. He was supposed to be on her side—one of the few, the proud, the good guys, not the butt of the jokes they liked to make about everyone else.

  He’d have gone back on his arrangement with Toby, come what may, were he not certain the man would make good on his threat to take a wrecking ball to Daniel’s marriage. He reassured himself again and again that no one else in the company was in a position to spot the things he’d spotted—that was part of the problem, after all—but it did little to lessen the pressure. For all he’d endured to be for nothing was simply not acceptable. Not anymore.

  Whether that dark night had been the false start of Rick and Molly’s affair or some later stage of it seemed almost a technicality. The feelings existed. They had to, because unlike Daniel, his wife couldn’t separate the emotional and physical aspects of a bond. The downward slope of his marriage had shown him that, if nothing else. It followed, then, that while Daniel was one of those people who could buy into the claim, hypothetically of course, that a tryst meant nothing, Molly was not.

  He’d thought he was past feeling this desperate. He’d thought he was coming out on the other side.

  But there was still time. She wasn’t gone yet—if she were, she’d have reacted to all of this differently. You caught us. I was trying to work up how to tell you. I’m sorry.

  He was at a dead end anyway. He’d called the number on the statement he’d found, navigated the automated system with Molly’s Social Security number and zip code, and found out she’d paid it in full—but somehow the zero balance didn’t set his mind at ease. He’d tried and failed to access her separate accounts, to guess at her passwords and log-ins; he’d combed their joint assets for signs of odd payments, undisclosed debts. He couldn’t help but question how she’d managed such a big sum, all at once. He’d be a fool not to wonder if there were others like it.

  Still. Maybe she’d just been bad about keeping up with the month-to-month. If she’d paid, however she’d done it, things couldn’t be that bad, financially speaking.

  Could they?

  In for a penny, in for a pound was one of Molly’s classic drunkisms. He’d laughed as she’d slurred it cheerfully at the late-night burrito counter with her upsized order, on the eggnog-filled Christmas Eve she overstuffed his stocking until it ripped and fell, even on the full-moon night they decided to conceive a sibling for Grant.

  So it was for Daniel now. In for a pound, or more—whatever it took to tip the scales back in his favor.

  He had not come this far only to lose her.

  25

  Molly stood in front of the body-length mirror mounted on her closet door and bent her legs, pulsing a few times before straightening up. The copper sleeves she’d ordered felt uncomfortably tight, but the fit looked right. They didn’t roll down when she moved, and the flesh of her quadriceps wasn’t billowing around the top. Was this how they were supposed to feel? And could she really run in these things, if she could run at all? The copper zigzags shone across the black fabric, catching the glow of the Himalayan salt lamps she’d installed on their bedside tables some months prior. She’d forgotten by now precisely what the illuminated crystals were supposed to do—something about ridding the air of negative ions, allowing for more cleansing sleep—but she still liked the way they gave the bedroom a sort of spa quality, in appearance if nothing else. Daniel had never expressed an opinion on them one way or another, aside from a flat-falling wisecrack about kryptonite the day they arrived. She should have tried to have a better sense of humor about it, maybe. Probably.

  “Mom!” Grant burst through the door without knocking—a habit she was going to curb one of these days—and stopped short. “Hey, cool. LeBron James wears those! Are they for the race?”

  She nodded, taking a more critical look at her otherwise standard athletic wear. Did the knee sleeves make her look like a parody—a suburban mother who fancied herself in the NBA? Maybe she should wear long pants to cover them, even if race day proved as hot as the extended forecast guessed it would be.

  “Can I have some?” Matching Grant could be cute. If only these hadn’t cost a bundle—she’d gone for quality so as not to risk that the copper wasn’t legitimate. Even in spending dollars she didn’t have, why throw good money after bad?

  “I don’t think they sell them for kids. But anyway, these are supposed to support Mommy’s bad knees. Your knees are fine.” She bent her legs again, frowning. Maybe she’d try the sleeves on a hike first—she’d be meeting Rick and Rosie again after work tomorrow, and this time they’d have company. Molly hadn’t expected Liza to change her mind about the meditation class, but she’d called yesterday, and Molly was so relieved to realize she might have another shot at her friend’s forgiveness that she blurted out the first, fastest alternative she could think of. Liza had sounded uncharacteristically hesitant, even needy, but Rick had made up for her lack of enthusiasm, as having a new face join their brave talking was Rosie’s prescribed next step. Molly hoped she wouldn’t regret melding worlds this way, but it was better than melding herself back into a place she didn’t want to go. And maybe seeing Rosie’s struggle with things the rest of them took for granted would help Liza get some perspective. It was worth a try.

  Daniel appeared in the open doorway behind Grant and surveyed her. This was how it always went—she’d sneak away for a five-minute shower or to try something on, and next thing she knew, she had an audience.

  “Auditioning for the Lakers?” he said brightly, and Grant beamed up at him. “That’s what I said, Dad! Doesn’t Mom look cool?”

  “Totally cool.” Molly smiled weakly. How many years before Grant couldn’t think of a single “cool” thing about her? She’d seen the eye rolls at the bus stop when the older kids’ parents appeared even at their most helpful, brandishing a forgotten lunch or library book. She dribbled an imaginary basketball and passed it to Grant, who mimed the catch and a jump shot.

  “Three-pointer!” he yelled, and Molly joined in his victory dance, ignoring the twinge in her lower back.

  “Speaking of, there’s a basketball game going in the cul-de-sac. Ryan’s older brother said he’d keep an eye on you if you want to go out.”

  “Ooh, yeah! Can I?”

  Molly started to shake her head, but Daniel nodded. “We’ll call you when it’s time for dinner.”

  Grant pounded down the stairs, and Daniel’s smile fell. “Are you really going to run this thing?” he asked. “I’m not sure copper sleeves are going to cut it, Mols.”

  Of course he wouldn’t believe support would help. In any of its forms. “I told him I would,” she said simply.

  “Most people don’t run even a short race without training at least a little bit. I’m not trying to sound cruel, but when’s the last time you ran anywhere?”

  “That’s the point, I guess,” she said. Her hands had found their way onto her hips. “I’m tired of disappointing him. I’ll just have to rally.” He opened his mouth to speak again, and she held up a hand. “Let’s not, okay? Your budget meetings—you can’t get out of them, can you?”

  Daniel genuinely looked sorry. “The start of the fiscal isn’t flexible, unfortunately. And neither is the exec board.”

  “Right. So. You can’t do it. He really, really wants someone to do it. Ergo, I will do it. Let me worry about how.” She hiked a leg onto the bed and peeled off the sleeve. The release of the suction felt strange. Maybe it had been doing something useful after all. “Also, since when are we okay with sixth-graders being responsible for our kid playing in the street
? I should get down there.”

  “He’ll be fine,” Daniel said. He cleared his throat. “There’s something I want to talk to you about.”

  Her heart dropped. Here it came. She’d practically held her breath for the whole rest of the day following her visit to Toby, but Daniel had shown no signs that he’d heard anything about it—not then or the next day, either. But she couldn’t remember the last time any variation of we need to talk had led to something good. “I was going to start dinner…,” she began, but he was shaking his head. Adamant.

  “There’s never a good time, is there? Once the kids are asleep, either one of us is, too, or we’re both distracted with other things. I set Nori up with a movie—she’s sucked in.” He looked too proud of himself for this to be entirely bad. With a quick nod, Molly sank onto the bench at the foot of their bed and busied herself with yanking off the second sleeve.

  “I have a surprise for you,” he said. “Something I want for us to do together, I mean.” He perched on the opposite end of the bench and dropped a brochure onto the varnished wood between them. On the cover was the name of a wellness center she’d never heard of, set against the backdrop of, she was pretty sure from the shape and the tint, the Blue Ridge Mountains.

  “What’s this?”

  He took a deep breath and let it out in a gust. “After I put my foot in my mouth suggesting you take Liza to one of those meditation classes, I got to thinking. About how that was the one thing I haven’t offered to do, the whole time you’ve been going through all this.” He didn’t qualify what his interpretation of “all this” was, but that was probably for the best. “I’ve never offered to go with you.” She tried to brush past the way he said the one thing as if he’d exhausted all other outlets. Instead, she pictured skeptical Daniel, peering over her shoulder—over all the shoulders—from the corners of acupuncture rooms and yoga studios and healing massage parlors. She could picture her favorite therapeutic yoga instructor, whose very presence brought the word zen to mind, shaking her head, pointing a finger at the door.