The Best Kind of People (29 page)

WHEN SHE GOT
home, she kept the car warm and waited for Sadie to come out so they could drive to the support group. Joan warned her daughter while she adjusted the mirrors. “You may feel judgemental of people,” she said, “which is understandable. I was that way at first. They might seem like stupid ladies, you know, the kind of women you might see on a talk show. But they have good hearts, Sadie. They have been through so much. And they keep coming back every week and they help each other out. It’s very genuine.” She was babbling, and Sadie nodded at her periodically. Joan was surprised by how she was describing the group; she hadn’t really been all that aware of the shift in her feelings, that she’d begun to empathize with and appreciate the other women.

When they arrived at the health clinic, Joan put the car in park and turned to Sadie, who was texting.

“Honey, you okay? You’ll be fine?”

“Mom, it’s a bunch of ladies in a basement for an hour. I think I can hack it.”

“Okay, because we can leave at any time if you aren’t comfortable.”

“Sure,” Sadie said, opening the car door.

JOAN SAW THE
basement the way she had the first time she attended the group; she imagined Sadie must find it strange and sterile. The room was already bustling with women and their awkward teenaged children, siblings, parents, and partners. There was a coffee urn, and a dispenser of watery hot chocolate. Joan filled a Styrofoam cup with cocoa for Sadie, who seemed grateful to have something to hold on to. Dr. Forrestor called everyone to sit in the wooden chairs assembled in a circle. A flip chart detailed a list of rules for respectful group dynamics.

“We’re going to start with a go-around,” Dr. Forrestor said slowly, scanning the circle and trying to look everyone in the eye.

Each woman spoke her name, introduced her family member, and said one thing she was grateful for. Joan tried to memorize their names as they went around. Barb, grateful for coffee, with her daughter Emma. Julia, grateful for her two sons’ health, with her boyfriend. Amy, grateful for a lenient judge, with her mother. Shirley, grateful for the group’s support now that her husband was back in jail for a parole violation, also with her mother. There were two new women. One, who spoke barely above a whisper, Trish, said she was grateful for her anger, because it kept her from feeling the full weight of her sorrow, and she’d brought her friend.

Then the second new woman introduced herself as Anna, and it was as if all at once everyone in the group, collectively, realized who she was: Anna Lansing, the wife of sexual predator and murderer Richard Lansing. She had cut her hair shorter, and it was fully grey, no longer auburn the way it had been in press photographs. Two years ago, the high commander in the
US
Army had been tried and convicted for two murders and dozens more sexual assaults, as well as a string of break-ins and robberies of women’s undergarments. Anna was said to have known nothing about it. Joan remembered reading the newspaper accounts at the time and thinking,
As
if
she didn’t know!

Well, now she understood.

Sadie had started off chewing her nails, looking bored, but when she realized who Anna was, she leaned forward, wide-eyed.

“I know you probably all know who I am: Anna Lansing, although now I’m Anna Taylor. That’s my maiden name.”

She spoke as though she had picked a point on the wall in front of her to address.

“This is my sister, Monica.”

A chubby woman beside her with long blond hair held back in two gold combs smiled and waved.

“I’ve only attended this group once before, but I see Dr. Forrestor several times a week and he suggested I come to this session.”

Dr. Forrestor interrupted. “I just want to, again, emphasize that there is a strict code of confidentiality in this room that we all must agree to. You may be tempted to gossip about the fact that Anna was here, but try to think about how you would feel in her position. It is a very brave thing that she is here today.”

“I think that, well …” Anna’s voice broke.

Her sister jumped in after twenty or so seconds of silence. “I think what has been so difficult for other people, myself included, to understand is that besides the horror of his crimes, besides everything he did, my sister is facing a terrible loss of her life partner, and everything that comes with that kind of loss. Even under normal circumstances those changes are incredibly difficult. And she has very few places that she can turn. She is judged very harshly by everyone.”

Joan was so curious about Anna, wanting to know the details, and then she felt ashamed, knowing what it was like to be on the other end. Anyone she met who didn’t shun her wanted to know the
dirt.

She was so rapt, and so concerned with how Sadie was feeling, that she was almost surprised when her turn came around. While she had spoken openly at the group before, rambling on about every emotion, she was surprised by a feeling of shyness at the thought of Sadie hearing her voice. She faltered as she introduced herself.

“This is Sadie, my daughter.”

Sadie blushed, gave everyone a half wave.

“My husband, Sadie’s dad, is awaiting trial. We’re kind of in a holding period right now.”

Sadie picked at her fingers.

“One of the hardest things about this situation has been how to keep myself together enough to be a parent. It hasn’t been easy,” she started. There were nods of resonance from around the room. Sadie started to chew her thumb. Joan quickly took stock of why she was bringing this up. Was she looking for sympathy, trying to get Sadie to understand? She decided to stop.

“My daughter is very smart, and very strong. I wanted to bring her here today to see that we’re not alone.”

Sadie stopped chewing her thumb and half smiled at Joan, nodding.

WHEN THEY ARRIVED
home, Sadie paused before going upstairs, and pulled some things out of her coat pocket and handed them to Joan.

“What do you think of these?”

Joan scanned them. “Where on earth did you get them? Those nut jobs have nothing to do with your father.”

“They’re really convinced he’s innocent. I thought you might appreciate them, you know, their support,” said Sadie.

Joan snorted and looked at the stickers again.

“I think they are quite disturbed and don’t understand how the world works, really. And they’re using your father’s situation as a way to get attention for themselves and their … ideas. Who gave them to you?”

“Dorothy. She’s the leader of the group,” Sadie said.

“Are you kidding me? Well, that explains a lot. Studies do show that right-wing people have a lower
IQ
, which is certainly the case for Dorothy,” Joan said, reading the last few stickers. “‘Just because she regrets it in the morning …’ Honey, I don’t know exactly what happened between your father and those girls, and perhaps I’ll never know, but this kind of campaign is not something that helps anyone, especially young women, or women in general. She should not be in a position of authority, that dingbat. I can’t believe her! Giving these to
you
,
of all people. I’m furious. As if you need more things to wrestle with.”

Sadie paused, as though she was about to say something further, but she just gave her mom a hug and went upstairs. Joan stood at the foot of the staircase feeling happy for the hug, and uncertain what to do about Dorothy.

TWENTY-SEVEN

SADIE WAS RELIEVED
by the prospect of the impending Christmas trip to New York City. Even just knowing that she was getting out of town for a bit felt good. She pulled on her running gear, tugging at a frayed thread at the ankle seam. Her phone beeped with an email. Her pulse sped up, anticipating it might be from Kevin. She was trying to wait a few minutes before looking at any incoming mail.
Be cool. Just be cool.
But she couldn’t help herself, and was disappointed to see it was an effusive email from Dorothy describing how the group loved her and she hoped she’d come to the next meeting, signing off with seven smiley-face emojis.

Sadie needed to get out of Avalon Hills and gain some perspective. She’d completed her exams, getting passable but not stunning grades, and she didn’t care. She and Jimmy had resumed a sort of civil awkwardness. Elaine called or emailed every few days to check in. Sadie had been dreading Christmas, the first holiday of her life without her father, and going away meant she might not feel his absence as much. She wouldn’t be waiting for him to make shortbread and thumbprint cookies. She wouldn’t miss the way he wrapped presents so sloppily for her stocking, the presents themselves always perfect. Joan invariably gave her practical gifts, items that were useful. George always managed to choose things she actually wanted.

Sadie and Joan would spend the weekend with Andrew and Jared, and then Joan and Clara would go visit George on Christmas Day. Her father had wanted to see her, but Joan said no before Sadie even had to decide. She didn’t want Sadie to have a holiday memory of prison.

Sadie pulled on her sweatshirt and was shoving her phone in her pocket when she heard it beep again. She took a resigned breath before turning it over to see if it was another one from Dorothy.

Kevin!

Be cool.

Dear Sadie, I hope you know how much I’ve adored getting to know you and really, you are such a sweet girl, and I want you to know how much you’ve impressed me with your strength. I hear you’ve moved back home; know you’ll always have a home with us. I attached a song I’ve been listening to lately, and it makes me think of you. It’s by Built to Spill. It’s probably old-guy music, but I think you’ll like it. The new book is going well here in Iowa. But don’t tell anyone. I don’t want to jinx it! Love, Kevin.

“Adored,” “sweet girl,” “impressed me,” “always have a home with.” No one had ever said things like this to her before. And he trusted her enough to talk about his new book. And he signed it with “Love, Kevin.” She downloaded the song immediately: “Things Fall Apart” by Built to Spill, a band she’d never heard of.

She read the email three times, loosening her warm running clothes before finally venturing outside. She ran as though propelled by the email, composing a perfect response in her head. When she got to the end of the road, she paused at the gate to the Coffee Hut, where she saw Amanda putting a tray of coffees on top of her car and opening the driver’s-side door. They looked at each other for a moment before Amanda motioned her over.

“You’re a fucking jogging lunatic!”

The party — the way Amanda’s sister had yelled at Sadie — sat between the two girls like a fence. Still, they pretended everything was fine, though they weren’t acting the way they normally would.

“Why haven’t you been coming to school?” Amanda put the tray in the car, taking one cup out and pulling back the tab.

“Well, I can’t deal, really.”

“Yeah, I get it. My sister hasn’t been going either. And someone told me Miranda went to rehab or something.”

“For what?”

“I have no idea,” she said, tapping her nose.

“Right,” Sadie said, stretching out her hamstring.

“Jimmy’s got a new nickname.”

“What?”

“Sulkboy.”

“Huh.”

“Seriously, the emo girls are lapping it up. You should be careful.”

“We’re on a break,” she said.

“I heard, yeah. Everyone’s talking about Avalon’s number one couple’s demise.”

Sadie tried to adjust her posture into
who cares, who cares
.

“I kinda got a new crush anyway.”

“Who?”

“He’s an older guy, you wouldn’t know him.”

“How old?”

“Twenties …” she lied.

“Uh, that’s kind of gross.”

“No it’s not. You’d get it if you met him.”

“Don’t ruin your life ’cause your dad’s in jail. Remember our pact: no babies, no husbands until we live far away from here.”

“I know. God!”
It was a mistake telling her
, Sadie thought. She definitely wouldn’t get it.

“Anyway, I better get going. I wouldn’t want any rumours getting back to my mom that we were seen canoodling.”

“Ha.”

“Actually,” Amanda said, noting a few cars pulling into the lot, “maybe we should just make out and give them all heart attacks.”

“I’ll pass, as hot as you are.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m just not elderly enough for you.” Amanda laughed at her own joke and got in the car.

Sadie turned the volume up high on her music and silenced her phone’s other notification sounds. She ignored every human she saw, ignored the seven missed calls, and the texts from her mother asking her if she’d like lamb for dinner. She got lost in a reverie about her future life with Kevin. The famous author and his scandalously young girlfriend, doing her undergrad at Harvard, on his arm at fancy events in the evening. She would meet famous editors at dinner parties and write sassy first-person essays for their magazines. She ran until her face got hot and she felt like she might throw up, but the endorphin high was worth it.

When she stopped, she realized she was near Billy’s One-Stop Burgers and went in to pee. Her hands were red and swollen from the cold, and she had trouble catching her breath. When she came back out, she saw the same group of teenagers she’d seen last time, sitting on the tables outside, and approached them.

“Hey,” she said.

“You’re very sweaty,” said the girl with two green pigtails.

“It’s kind of hot,” said the blue-haired guy.

The girl poked him. “Don’t be gross.”

“I’m a runner. I ran from Woodbury Lake,” she explained. Despite this being a very long way away, neither kid seemed impressed.

“Winter running, hard-core,” said the girl. “I don’t run unless, you know, someone is chasing me. So, how’s celebrity life?”

Sadie couldn’t tell if she was being mocked or if the girl was nice.

“Could be worse,” she joked. “What’s your name?”

The girl lit a cigarette and scanned her. “Lena. I can’t believe you don’t recognize me. This is Jay.”

“Hey girl,” said Jay. His voice was feminine though he looked really tough, like he could drop-kick you and then say something really witty.