Night Swimming (39 page)

Charlotte couldn’t bear MaryAnn’s thinking it was all her fault. It was time to confess the truth—even if it hurt, MaryAnn wouldn’t have to shoulder all this guilt alone. Charlotte knew too well how hard that could be. So she began: “MaryAnn, I wasn’t always unselfish, I—”

“I’m not through. Wish I were, but this, unfortunately, is a first in a series of long-overdue apologies.”

“Why?”

“Because somewhere along the line, I turned into a really lousy person. In a word, Charlotte, a bitch. I was jealous. As simple as that. Jealous of you. You were thin and pretty and always seemed to have what I wanted. Especially in junior high, when kids begin noticing those things for the first time. It was painful watching you get picked for this and that while I just sort of sat on the sidelines, looking like everything was okay. It wasn’t okay, and I was so damn envious. It was a feeling that never seemed to go away. Even as we got older, even when I should have outgrown these sorts of adolescent feelings, I didn’t. I just got more jealous. Face it, Char, I wasn’t the prettiest flower in the bunch, and I wasn’t clever, and I wasn’t ...I just wasn’t much.”

“That’s not true,” insisted Charlotte. She couldn’t believe the deluge of grief and self-effacement that was pouring out of MaryAnn.

“It’s true. I was dull, not particularly fun, and certainly not interesting. In fact, I was rigid. It had to be just so. Like when you color, God forbid you go outside the lines. I could never go outside the lines.”

Silently she acknowledged that there was this side to MaryAnn. But this was not the time to talk about it. This was the time to listen.

“So anyway, when I had a chance to be with Tom, I just went for it. I justified it in my own head by being convinced that you killed T. J. But we all killed T. J. Me, you, and T. J. himself. We all played a hand in his fate. And you know what else, Charlotte?”

“What?”

“I know you still loved him.”

Charlotte was shocked. How could she possibly have known this?

“I know because I know you. I could see how you glanced at him when you thought no one was looking. And I saw the way T. J. still looked at you, as much as I wanted to deny it. And that was so hard for me to see, to accept. So I didn’t accept it.”

“I can imagine how hard that must have been, MaryAnn. But you still believed he was going to ask you to marry him? Why?” “Did you ever want something so much you thought you could will it so?”

“More than you will ever know.”

“Well, as crazy as it sounds, I honest to God thought I was going to get a proposal. I was marching to my own drummer, and I was clearly out of step with reality. So, that’s why it felt so good to win Tom, someone you liked. I finally felt more worthy—or less unworthy, somehow. ‘Wow,’ I said, ‘I’m getting Charlotte’s boyfriend. I must be okay.’”

“Oh, MaryAnn, you don’t have to do this.”

“I do. I really do. So I figured now we were even. I got the prize. And now I have to tell you that I am as sorry as sorry can get, from the bottom of my heart. Nothing can make up for what I did, but please know how awful I feel for all the pain I must have caused you. And then to make you wear that stupid bridesmaid’s dress at the wedding.”

“Yeah, well, I’ll give you that; that was pretty hideous.”

Both women laughed, and it filled the room with relief.

“But I’ve got to tell you, Char.”

“More?”

“Oh, yeah, this is the best part. This is the part where it all gets really good.”

“What?”

“I had reservations even on my wedding day. I looked over at you and even envied you then. There hasn’t been a day that’s gone by that I haven’t looked at Tom and thought I married the wrong man.”

“MaryAnn!”

“It’s just been one unhappy disaster after another. He’s always unemployed. We are always at odds. I’ve lost respect for him, and once that’s gone, it’s all gone. God punished me. He trapped me in a loveless marriage.”

That’s why MaryAnn always said be careful what you wish for. It suddenly made sense.

“Why didn’t you end it?”

“Because I got pregnant so fast. I felt guilty and scared leaving with a new baby. I was worried I didn’t have enough money to do it on my own. I just kept saying that when Clare was old enough, I’d leave. And the most ironic thing? You had the nerve to leave. You even did that right. Well, not exactly right. I mean, robbing a bank is not exactly the ideal way to go, but you got out. So now that you’ve paved the way, I even think that maybe I’ll finally have the nerve to leave the marriage now. Clare’s old enough. I think she could handle it.”

“I wouldn’t hold myself up as your role model exactly, MaryAnn. You’re talking to me in jail.”

“Yeah, but you did something about your life. You didn’t settle for something ordinary, something where you’d look back and say, ‘So what?’ This is what makes me so happy that you have Skip. You deserve him, Charlotte. And he sounds so wonderful.”

“He is pretty wonderful. But look at this situation: He’s there; I’m here. Who knows what’s going to happen?”

“It’s going to be okay. I don’t know how, but all the ladies are putting their heads together. It can’t end like this.”

“Oh, yes, it can. Those are the nasty curve balls life throws you. It could end like this, MaryAnn.”

“No. Somehow, you and Skip will end up together. If anyone deserves love, you do. It has to happen. It just wouldn’t be fair.”

“Fair?” Charlotte eked out a small laugh. “Fair. Life is not fair. It’s interesting, unexpected, but not fair.” She was thinking of Heather, of Timmy LeBlanc, of all the other children in the ward waiting for something good to happen—because children always had hope.

“But you have love, Charlotte. Don’t underestimate that. Oh, God, when I think back, sometimes I wish I could experience this life again. You know, a do-over.”

Charlotte knew exactly what MaryAnn meant. She had known when she stole the money and fled. She had to try life on rather than regret everything she might have missed.
No regrets.
Whatever life would be now for her, one thing was sure: She would never feel like she needed a do-over.

“How I ever ended up with Tom . . .” MaryAnn sighed. “Trust me, Charlotte, you didn’t miss a thing. Didn’t you ever wonder why I didn’t talk about him?”

“I just figured you wanted to keep it private.”

MaryAnn laughed. “Private? I was embarrassed. He hasn’t been able to hold on to a job ever...in his life. I don’t know why. He just has no drive, no get-up-and-go. Maybe because he knew he could always fall back on family money. When we were first married, he sold mattresses. Then he was a magician/juggler at children’s birthday parties; after that, he was hired as a night guard down at the fish plant, but he kept falling asleep. But this next story takes the cake: He invented a nonskid wax for industrial floors so employees wouldn’t slip on the job. We thought this would be our break, so we sank every dime we had into it, including Clare’s college-fund money. It was going to be good. It was going to be the thing that finally got us out of debt and let us live like normal human beings. Except that six months later, this miracle floor wax started eating through the floors of every customer we had. Literally boring holes through their concrete. We had more lawsuits than Philip Morris. The only recourse was to declare bankruptcy.

“If I have to look at one more self-help book lying around the house, I’ll go crazy. Everywhere you look,
Ten Steps to Success, Finding the Millionaire in You, Motivational Exercises in Climbing the Corporate Ladder.
”

“What happened to him? He seemed to have so much potential?”

“Who knows... who knows?”

“And his family, they couldn’t help?”

“They helped here and there, but I didn’t want to get mixed up with them. You know how I always dodged that conversation with you.”

“Yes, I remember, but I never understood why exactly.”

“Doesn’t the name Barzini mean anything to you?”

“No.”

“Well, it didn’t mean anything to me, either, until after Tom and I were married. That’s when the ghosts in the closet began machine-gunning themselves out with names like Guido Tetrazini and Harry the Hammer. Where normal relatives had jobs, most of Tom’s were in the witness-protection program. I should have been suspicious at the wedding when I saw so many bodyguards hanging around. Tom is the grand-nephew of Anthony Barzini. Anthony Barzini was the most feared guy in Boston. I mean, we’re talking loan-sharking, extorting, killing. When I found this out, I lost it. We had one Thanksgiving dinner with my family and his family. I needed two coat closets: one for the coats, the other for the Uzis. It was a nightmare, Charlotte. After that, I didn’t want anything to do with them.”

“I can’t believe it. That’s why Tom would never tell me anything about his family when I asked him. He’d always change the subject. Tom’s family is straight out of
The Godfather.
”

“Don’t romanticize it, Charlotte. Remember when Clare was born? They sent all that furniture up from Jordan’s? And when they came to see her? We had eleven limos lined up and down the street, complete with drivers-slash-henchmen.”

“Yeah, we all thought that was odd, but we chalked it up to family coming in from out of town.”

“Yeah, Sicily, by way of the North End. I was such a wreck the entire time they were here for Clare’s christening. All I could see were tomorrow’s headlines: ‘MaryAnn Barzini has the whole gang over for the christening.’ ‘Uncle Anthony is made godfather.’ ‘MaryAnn says she couldn’t refuse.’”

Charlotte laughed.

“I told Tom that if he had anything to do with his family, baby or not, it was over. I was not going to be a moll, or whatever they call their women.”

“You’re right. God, look what happened to Diane Keaton. She ended up with nothing in
Godfather Two.
Not even her kids.”

“Charlotte, no one knows about Tom’s family, even to this day. You can’t tell a soul. I still have to live in this town, godforsaken as it is.”

“I won’t. I promise.”

“There were so many times I wished we were still close. I wanted to tell you, but I was too afraid. When we were really down on our luck, his family would help out, but I was desperate. My job at the bank alone couldn’t keep us going. I had to start selling Mary Kay products in the evening to supplement my income at the bank. We finally had no choice but to take his family’s help. It just killed me to do it, but we had no money. Nothing.”

“But, MaryAnn, don’t you go and visit some of his family in Florida every year? When you go to Sea World?”

“Those are
my
relatives, Charlotte. It’s not that they’re so normal either, but in comparison, they look like the Waltons, for Christ’s sake. Anyway, they don’t have two nickels to rub together. They live in a trailer community on my uncle’s post office pension.”

“You know, for a small town, there’s a lot going on. Our very own
Peyton Place.
”

“Well, it ain’t Mayberry.”

The women laughed.

“What does Tom do now?”

“Nothing. He’s between jobs...Now, that’s a laugh.”

“Jesus, MaryAnn, I keep saying I’m sorry. I don’t know what else to say. It’s all so...”

“No, Char, I’m sorry. Sorry for everything. If I sat here all day, I couldn’t begin to cover it all. So you see, my being able to help you helps me, too. It’s not enough—I know that—but at least it’s something. And I’m lucky to have this chance.”

“A do-over?”

“Yeah, a do-over.”

“As Dolly says, ‘It’s all blood under the bridge.’ Speaking of which, would you call her again, MaryAnn? Tell her what’s happening. Tell her to tell Skip thank you for getting his lawyer friends involved, and try to find out more specifically when he’s going to come?”

“Of course I’ll call. As soon as I leave here. So how about we cut our thumbs once more and become sisters. What do you say?”

“I’d say yes, but they confiscated all my sharp objects.”

Again they laughed, and MaryAnn put her thumb to the window. Charlotte followed suit.

“Friends.”

CHAPTER 68

T
HE NEXT MORNING
the door opened to Charlotte’s cell, and Walter Bloomberg sauntered in like an old friend.

“How are you, Charlotte?”

“Couldn’t be better.” The ache of defeat still ran like an undercurrent through her heart, and the false bravado was becoming ever more transparent.

Bloomberg sat down next to her on the cot and flapped wildly through his papers. They splashed to the floor in his effort to find the right one.

“The prosecutor called me today and said she’d presented the case to a grand jury and got an indictment.”

“That doesn’t sound very friendly.”

“Don’t worry, it’s all routine. Instead of having a preliminary hearing, the judge will just arraign you on the indictment.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means he’ll explain to you what the charge is, and you’ll be asked to plead guilty or not guilty.”

“Today?”

Bloomberg looked at his notes. “No...on Tuesday.”

“And what happens after I plead guilty?”

“Well, because you have no one to go your bail, you’ll unfortunately have to go back to jail and await sentencing, Charlotte.”

“You mean to tell me, even if I plead guilty, they’d still let me out if I had the money?”

“Yes. This is common in a federal case, particularly where there are no drugs involved. Why? Do you have someone to go the bail for you?”

“No, but it’s always nice to know—I mean, if I ever find myself in this predicament again. So how long will it take until my sentencing?”

“Your sentencing could take anywhere from six to eight weeks.”

“Six to eight weeks? Jesus, I’ll go crazy in here.”

“You hang tight, Charlotte, and we’ll see what we can do.”

Hang tight. Sure, I’d love to hang tight, but they confiscated my belt. And what does he mean,
we’ll
see what
we
can do? Like we’re roommates, except he gets to go home and watch
Access Hollywood
tonight while I eat gruel.
Bloomberg stood up to leave.