Four Friends (33 page)

“How did you find me?” BJ asked, standing from behind her desk.

“It wasn’t hard,” Gerri said with a shrug. “I looked it up on the computer. So, can you take lunch? If not, we can do it some other time.”

It was almost as if BJ knew. She said she’d find someone from the shop to cover her desk, but she was tense, on guard, as she did so. When they were walking out of the office she said, “I only have a little time. Half hour, forty-five minutes tops.”

“I’m sure you know some places nearby,” Gerri replied.

“I usually bring something,” she said. “When I don’t, we hit Taco Bell or Wendy’s for a salad.”

“Either of those works for me. Or, I saw this sushi place down the road. You eat sushi?”

“I haven’t,” BJ said.

“We could get some non-fish rolls. Break you in slowly,” Gerri said with a smile.

“Okay,” BJ said, cautiously.

“Come on, you’re not leaving the kids alone or anything. Relax. Try to enjoy a little break.”

“Yeah,” she said, clearly not enjoying it a bit.

“By the way, where are the kids over summer?” Gerri asked.

“At my brother’s house. They’ve been really great about helping me out while I’m working.”

“They must like it there. With their aunt?”

“Yeah,” she said. “Her kids are grown, but she’s good to my kids. My brother has done pretty well here. The business is doing okay. I lucked out.”

“Nah, you didn’t luck out—you must have a good family, BJ. That’s how we get through the hard times.”

“Yeah,” she said, glum. She got in Gerri’s car.

Gerri made a little small talk, telling her about Matt’s obsession with baseball and video games, Andy’s ongoing thing with Bob, Sonja’s new hobby of planting up the entire yard. When they were settled in a very sparsely populated restaurant and each had an iced tea, Gerri explained why she was there. “Let’s not drag this out. You’re clearly onto me. I just want you to know, I know.”

“I guessed,” BJ said.

“How?” Gerri asked.

“You said you could find things out. And I freaked out that night, with the thing in the parking lot.”

“I wish you wouldn’t freak out now—I’m on your side.”

“How can you be?”

“I read the newspapers, got my hands on a couple of reports,” Gerri said. “Look, I’m not going to say anything to anyone, not even Andy. The only other person who knows is Phil, who looked it up for me. And by the way, that’s not really allowed. But right now Phil would kill Caesar for me, you know? We don’t make a habit of doing background checks on neighbors.” She sipped her tea. “Besides, hardly anyone has more shit going on than us.”

“I do,” BJ said solemnly.

“Yeah, you do win the prize, my girl. I have a million questions, but I’m not going to overwhelm you. Right now all I want is to be straight with you. I want you to know I know—and that I’m not going to run scared or gossip about you or judge you.”

“Your husband prosecutes people like me,” BJ said. “I look things up, too. I don’t have a computer, but I can get on the internet at my brother’s shop.”

Gerri smiled. “He does,” she admitted. “He doesn’t like it, he sees the flaws, he goes with the patriarchal laws, we fight about it, he tries to plea down the sentence when he understands the defendant was helpless, and when he’s prosecuting a case like yours, he suffers. Plus, I kick him every time I turn over in bed, every night.” She reached across the table and squeezed BJ’s hand. “Really, he hates it. And he understands. He won’t fight the system, but he gets it. You were right about him—he’s decent.”

BJ looked down. “You could’ve played it a lot closer to your chest,” she said. “I sure wouldn’t have pressed you.”

Gerri shook her head. “That wouldn’t have worked,” she said. “Besides, it would have kept you back. You would have distanced yourself.”

“I would have,” she admitted.

“Also, I’m not great at that. Pretending I know nothing.”

“I bet you are at work.”

“Work is different,” Gerri said. “The people I’m there to serve are...well, most of them will plod along through completely dysfunctional lives forever, through generations, in fact. Those are easy to spot and I have to keep them at arm’s length or it’ll eat me alive. Then there are cases where if I don’t play it coy, someone might get hurt. And of course, we help a lot at CPS. It doesn’t look like it on paper all the time, but if you’re right there in the middle of it, if you can see the eyes of a child you’re working with, you can just tell. I’m not really good at that kind of thing where my intimates are concerned—you saw that with Sonja. With Phil.”

“With Phil?”

She shrugged. “I never sensed it—the affair. I was too close to him. When I found out, it occurred to me to use some of my skills to get to the bottom of the whole thing before confronting him, but honesty has always been a priority in our house.”

“I guess not with him, though. Huh?”

“With him, as well, which is why he made that stupid pact with himself to admit the truth if I ever found out.” She lifted the tea to her lips. “I wish he’d used all that time to think of a good lie. It might’ve been better for us.”

“It might’ve been better for me if I never knew you knew,” BJ said.

“No, it wouldn’t.” Gerri smiled. “Oh, if my knowing was going to hurt you or your kids, you’d be right—but it won’t. BJ, you’ve been through a lot. There isn’t any reason for you not to have friends. I understand, you have to be careful. But...”

The waiter brought them sushi rolls and plates. Gerri set about the task of putting out the little dishes. “Watch. This is what you do.” She demonstrated—some soy, some wasabi—then showed BJ how to hold the chopsticks. Gerri plucked a spicy tuna roll off the plate in the middle, dipped it, ate it. “Spicy tuna, shrimp and crab,” she said, pointing. “This is a California roll—no raw fish. But take a chance, try the tuna roll. It’s delicious.”

BJ struggled with her chopsticks for a moment, then clumsily picked up a tuna roll, gently placed it in her soy and wasabi, lifted it and plunk, it splashed back into the soy. Gerri laughed. “It doesn’t get much easier, either.”

“No wonder they never gain weight,” BJ muttered, attempting it again. She maneuvered the bite-size piece into her mouth and chewed it thoughtfully. “Not too bad.”

“See. Trust me,” Gerri said.

“I never thought I’d see this day,” BJ said, going after another piece. “A chichi lunch in Mill Valley.”

“Please.” Gerri laughed. “Aim higher than this.”

“So tell me something,” BJ said. “How do you think the others would take the news? Andy and Sonja?”

“Andy, no question. I’m an advocate for children, but she’s their champion. It’s her life’s work. Sonja, hard to tell. I haven’t been able to read her for a while. She’s between worlds right now. The old Sonja might’ve freaked out. But this new person is almost the opposite. Don’t do anything until you’re sure you are comfortable. And it’s okay to never tell, you know. No one would blame you. I’m sure no one suspects anything.” Gerri plucked another piece of sushi off the plate. “What are your plans?” she asked.

“I’ve been able to save some money,” BJ said. “I think I’m good in that house until the end of summer, maybe through the fall. I’ll get plenty of notice and time. The house is designed for women like me. In fact, it’s pretty hard to be considered. I’m going to have to free it up and give someone else a chance. It’s only right.”

“Of course,” Gerri said, but with disappointment. “I’m really glad it was you for a year, BJ. I like you.”

“Thanks,” BJ said. “I like you, too.”

“If you could do anything? Absolutely anything?”

“School,” she said. “I didn’t finish high school. Got my GED in prison. And then a couple of college courses, but whether the credits transfer is questionable. I once thought I’d like to be a teacher, but I couldn’t pass the background check. That doesn’t matter—I’m interested in a million things. I’d love to do what you do—I can smell a family in crisis a hundred miles away. But for right now if I can just keep a roof over my head and take care of the kids, I’ll be grateful. We’re safe now, that’s what matters.”

“Do they need counseling?” Gerri asked.

“They’re getting it. There’s a very strong network for battered women, even the ones who crossed the line, like me. I had amazing support through the whole thing. They even helped me keep my kids, in a way.”

“In a way?”

“They helped me find a good lawyer. His parents wanted the kids, and they’re as crazy and mean as he was. Most of the people in the family had criminal records, but just to be sure, I traded the insurance money—which would have gone to the kids—for their signed promise never to seek custody of my children.” She studied her chopsticks, maneuvering them. “Thirty thousand dollars. His parents didn’t even have to think about it. They wanted the money more than they wanted their grandchildren.”

“And the kids were with your brother?”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “My mom and dad. But I can’t go back to Fresno to live, not ever. He had a big family, a lot of buddies as nasty as he was. A quick visit, in and out, that’s all I dare, and I don’t dare often. They’re all big and mean, but they’re not that smart. They won’t try to find me, but if any of them stumbles into my path, they might want revenge, but they don’t want the kids.”

“Jeez, you’ve really been through it. So, the kids are getting counseling. Are you getting any support?”

“Some,” BJ said. “There are groups available and I’ve dropped in a few times, but the best thing for me right now is to feel I’m taking care of my kids on my own. That really works for me. I got a lot of support in prison. In fact, I was kind of an orange jumpsuit celebrity—there are a lot of women in there who fantasized about doing what I did, whether they were justified or not.” She smiled contritely.

“I’m sorry,” Gerri said. “I wasn’t going to ask a lot of questions. We have so much time to talk. About both our lives. Because no matter where you go next, I’m not giving you up.”

“It’s not going to be Mill Valley, Gerri. This place is too expensive. I’m thinking of leaving the state. Going someplace with a lower cost of living, but I want to be close to family if I can. I haven’t figured anything out yet—but I should. If you have any suggestions, I’m open.”

“I’ll work on that. Selfishly, I’d like you to stay close. I’ll use my connections, look into options.”

BJ tilted her head and her eyes glistened. “One more,” she said, her voice a little raspy. “One more question, then we eat this sushi and I have to go back to work.”

“How’d you have the courage?”

BJ had to purse her lips tight and her nose turned a little pink. She glanced away for a second to gather her composure. Then she looked back at Gerri. “It wasn’t courage,” she said in a whisper. “All I had was fear and desperation. It was him or us. We were absolutely and truly down to that, I swear.”

Gerri was quiet for a second. Then she said, “God bless you, sister.”

* * *

BJ knocked on Sonja’s door that same afternoon, after work. “Hi,” she said when Sonja answered. “Still digging?”

“Can’t stop myself,” she said, but she smiled when she said it. “Wanna see?”

“I’d love to.” She stepped inside. BJ didn’t drop in on the women in her neighborhood. She mainly saw them in passing, outside. She rarely saw Sonja at all these days.

“How about a glass of wine?” Sonja offered.

“Gee, you can’t drink wine, can you?” she asked. “I mean, with all you have going on?”

“You mean medication, lunacy, depression and marital disharmony?” she asked with a laugh. “I’m not exactly cleared for alcohol yet—and besides, being the health nut of the neighborhood, I’ve always been a spare sipper. But I keep a bottle of chilled white in the fridge for Andy and Gerri and I admit, I’m really looking forward to when I can join them. I might chug it.”

“When do you suppose that’s going to happen?” BJ asked, watching somewhat distractedly while Sonja breezed into her cheerful kitchen and poured a small glass of wine.

“I’m thinking about a year,” she said. “Dr. Kalay says the antidepressant and antianxiety drugs are probably temporary for me. We’ll see. I like having a full head of hair so I’m not going to argue about it.” She handed BJ the glass.

“Thanks. I hadn’t had a drop of alcohol in years, till I met you girls. I wonder if you’re all a bad influence.”

“I figure if Jesus could turn water into wine at a wedding, it’s probably not the worst thing. Come out back,” Sonja invited, leading the way.

BJ stepped out onto the patio and felt almost assaulted by the depth and color that surrounded the yard. On all four sides, against the house and three surrounding fences, were beautiful plants and flowers. She saw plants, six feet deep. Roses, lilies, gladiolas, daisies, bougainvillea, ferns, snapdragons and a multitude of unidentifiable blooms and stalks in every color. “Good God,” BJ said, shocked.

Sonja laughed and went to sit down in a patio chair. She had a couple of chairs turned toward the yard, a small redwood table separating them. BJ noticed there was a water glass there. Sonja had been enjoying the view of her hard work in the early evening sun.

BJ sat down next to her. “You did this all by yourself?” she asked.

“When I get going, I can’t seem to stop,” Sonja said. “It’s probably going to require another pill of some kind.”

“Sonja, landscaping companies can’t pull this off in a couple of months,” BJ said. “And there’s no mess! Like it was all just dropped down from heaven!”

“Oh, there’s a mess on the side of the house. I have a routine. First thing in the morning I throw away the empty containers—rocks, weeds, sod, junk—and start digging, planting and cultivating. Then at the end of the day I rinse off my tools and wheelbarrow and go to the nursery to get plants and supplies for the next day so I can start again. I finally had to buy patio stones to weave through the gardens because it all got so thick. But I never get rid of plants unless they’re doomed and dying—I just relocate them very carefully. They’re kind of like babies.”

“How can you do this?” BJ asked. “It’s just amazing.”

Sonja shrugged. “No family, no husband, no job, no children...”