When We Were Friends (37 page)

I wanted to scoff, say something disparaging, but I didn’t have the energy.

“The cards said there’s two paths he can take now, and he’s on the path to trouble. Unless he veers away from it everything’s going to fall down around him.”

“You just made that up from what Alex said. You just made all of that up.”

“I’m telling you, everything here is in danger,” she said firmly. “I’d tell you to leave if I thought it’d help, but I have a sense it won’t make any of us any safer. You’re meant to be here; it’s your destiny and mine, Alex’s, Molly’s.”

“Oh please. You’re saying that because you’re not strong enough to get back in the car, because leaving scares you more than staying.”

Star began distractedly picking up the Wheaties she’d spilled, crushing them one by one between her index finger and thumb. “I’m scared
here
, Lainey. But when I said Alex was a good man, I meant it. He
is
a good man, and we have to trust he’s going to do the right thing.”

“I trust him,” I said. “I know he wouldn’t do anything to hurt us.” But of course, I could only trust that he wouldn’t do anything purposely. Whatever he was involved in, what if it led to his arrest? How could I not worry it might lead the authorities to us? All I could do was keep my eyes open. And be ready for anything.

And so, that was it. The conversation over before we’d talked about the night Alex had returned home. It didn’t come up that day or the next, and by the time a week had passed it felt almost like that night hadn’t happened at all. I did see Star watching us intently when we were together, like she was waiting for the right gears to turn, watching for signs of a spark, ignition, but she knew better than to ask.

Alex didn’t talk about
The Girlfriend
again either. And much as I wanted to believe that meant he’d ended things, within the next week I heard him twice on the phone with someone, late at night. There was a chance it was just Posy, who was scheduled to arrive in a week. But part of me was sure it was HER and I imagined her voice, silky and dangerously seductive, pushing him deeper into the pit she’d dug.

It didn’t matter, though. I wouldn’t let it matter. I was content with what our life had become, regardless of whether it might become more. Most afternoons now I painted; several of Susie’s friends had contacted me to commission their own murals, and they’d told their friends about me. And soon I had an even longer lineup of projects than I’d ever had in Virginia, and the promise of enough money that I insisted on using my savings to pay for groceries and a small stipend for rent.

Pamela had been sending me bills, which she picked up every
other day from our mailbox, but since I’d canceled all but one of our credit cards and shut off all our utilities, the bills had started dwindling. Like our former life was slowly disappearing.

Of course there were moments I woke up from the dream. I made myself search daily on Alex’s computer for stories about Molly’s disappearance and David McGrath’s upcoming drug possession trial, and the stories left me frantic for hours, pacing back and forth in my bedroom.

The McGraths had doubled the size of their reward; hundreds of leads had come in through their toll-free tip line and all, even the implausible ones, were being followed. A psychic detective had told the McGraths that Molly was surrounded by greenery (true enough) and would be found the morning of September 7. The police had used bloodhounds to search for her body in open fields and of course found nothing, but they assured reporters they were nowhere close to giving up.

And then two weeks after Alex returned, while I was on my way home from a painting job, Sydney called. “This is insane,” she said. “The whole world is insane!”

“Why it’s nice talking to you too, Sydney!” I said.

“I have to get out of here, Lainey. I just had the most godawful fight with David’s lunatic mother. She came to my door and started screaming when I wouldn’t open it, completely hysterical. Throwing herself at the door, yelling about how I’ve ruined the lives of her entire family, and taken away her precious baby girl.
Her
girl! I can’t stand this anymore, being around these people.”

“Can you blame her?” I said dispassionately. “I mean, it’s the truth.”

“I blame her for making a scene all the neighbors could hear, yes! Now I understand where David got his violent temper.”

“She lost her granddaughter, Sydney! And lost her son in a way too; do you ever think about that? David’s parents are the only ones I feel bad for in all of this. And your mom, I guess, although she’s probably loving the publicity. I’m guessing she’s telling everyone she
meets how she hasn’t been able to sleep, and then accepting offers for lunches out and spa treatments.”

“I can’t believe you’re so cold!”

“Oh get off it, you know it’s true.”

Sydney paused a moment and then, surprisingly, she gave a chirp of laughter. “Did you see her on the news the other day? She had her hair done and I think she was freshly Botoxed and silicone-lipped.”

“It’s important to have big lips to enunciate one’s despair,” I said.

She made a scoffing sound, then said, “Oh man, I miss you, Lainey.”

The words felt like fingers pinching my insides. For some reason they actually physically hurt. I gripped the steering wheel tighter.

“So,” Sydney said softly, “is Jacqueline there with you? Can I talk to her?”

“She’s with my mom. I’m on the road.”

I heard Sydney sigh, the most melancholy sound, then, “What’s she been doing? Any more new words?”

I felt an unexpected pang for Sydney. Of sympathy, partly, but also of camaraderie, over this baby we both had raised. I pulled off to the side of the road and sat a moment, letting the engine idle, then turned it off and said, “Yeah, a few. She can say
ball
, and
uh-oh
whenever she drops things and, interestingly,
poo
when she needs a diaper change.”

“Oh …” Sydney whispered.

“And what else? Nothing huge, I guess, but you can tell she really wants to walk; she gets herself rocking a little on her feet like she’s revving herself up. But so far she’s only revved herself onto her butt. Although you should see her crawl, Sydney; she’s setting the land speed record.”

Sydney gave a forced laugh. “Yeah, she always was a gifted crawler.” She was quiet a moment, then said, “Don’t let her walk without me, okay? I want to be the one who teaches her.”

“You expect me to strap her down or something?” I said, but I regretted the words as soon as they left my mouth. Because I understood
exactly how she must feel—the same way I felt when I imagined not being there when Molly learned to tie her shoes, to read, styled her hair before her first-ever date. “Okay,” I said. “I’ll start reminding her of the advantages of hand and knee travel.”

“Thanks,” Sydney said, like she actually believed me, then, “You forgive me now, don’t you? I think when this is over we can try and pick up where we left off. Telling each other everything, you know? Figuring out life.”

Was she kidding? “There’s a big difference between accepting the things someone’s done to you and wanting to hang out with them. And I really doubt there’s anything you could teach me about life that I’d want to know.” After which, I smiled.
Game over
, I thought.
Checkmate
.

“I was just hoping you’d want to keep being part of our lives. I can tell how much you care about Jacqueline and I just wish … I wish you could care a little about me too, not be so bitter.”

I wasn’t still bitter, was I? Not exactly; that was much too strong a word. “I feel sorry for you, not bitter.” I said this, of course, bitterly. “I feel sorry for the kid you were in high school and the person you grew up to be, and that’s what keeps me from hating you. You can’t pity and hate someone at the same time.”

“Oh come off it.” The change in her tone was startling. “I swear, you like to think of yourself as the most empathic person, but you’ve never even tried to see things from my point of view, have you.” She made a frustrated huffing sound, then said, “You want to talk about high school? Okay, let’s talk. Did you know that the week before junior year started my mom left home? She was gone for a month, and she didn’t even tell me until the day before she left. With this Portuguese guy named Marcelo; she gave me two hundred dollars for food—which of course I blew on crap within the first week—and the number of a hotel where I left about fifty frantic messages she didn’t return.”

“Poor Sydney,” I said. “And you were so devastated about being screwed over by your mother that you decided to screw me over? Why’re you even bringing this up now?”

“I’m just trying to get you to realize nothing’s as simple as you seem to think it is, same as now. I’m not trying to make excuses, because I don’t have any good ones, I’m just trying to explain. And I feel like we have to work through it, get to some kind of peace with the past before you’ll be able to trust me, and I guess before I’ll really be able to trust you either.”

I shook my head. I didn’t want to talk about high school. Hearing Sydney mention it I was there again, the pain just as sharp, like the pain of a phantom limb when the actual limb is long gone. Spending lunchtime in a back carrel at the school library so I wouldn’t have to face sitting alone in the cafeteria; looking out at the courtyard, the clusters of girls in their little closed circles discussing parties and movie outings and dates whose magnificence I could only dream about. I’d sit in my carrel sneaking bites of sandwich and then chips, red grapes, cookies and more cookies, which filled my stomach but not my emptiness. Imagining myself there inside those circles, girls whispering secrets to me, arms slung round my waist.

Now I watched the fly that had landed on my windshield wash its face with its front legs, then slapped at the windshield to scare it away. “Okay,” I said, “talk. Your mother left you for a month, and you decided to tell everybody I was a loser. How’s that related exactly?”

“It’s not,” she said softly. “Not really, but I guess part of me was angry because I felt like I couldn’t tell you what was going on. All those months you’d cried to me about Star, and I knew you’d think what I was going through was minor in comparison. You’d say something jokey like, ‘I’d give anything if my mom would disappear!’ because you wouldn’t get how lucky you were.”

“You seriously think I wouldn’t have realized how screwed up your mother was? You think I would’ve dismissed it?”

“All I can tell you is what I was thinking then. I blamed myself for her leaving and I was ashamed, and I felt completely alone. I didn’t want to talk about it with anyone really; I cut most of my classes and I’d hang out in a bathroom stall crying, thinking about running off somewhere, becoming a stripper or a hooker, leaving her the way she left me even though I knew deep down she wouldn’t even really
care less. And then one day I was walking out from the bathroom when David saw me.”

“David McGrath?”

“What I did to you in high school was David’s fault too, isn’t that funny? I mean not funny …” Her voice trailed off and she was silent a minute before she said, “He was so nice to me when he saw I’d been crying; he pulled me into an empty classroom and he sat with me until I told him what was going on. He was the only person I ever told, and he held me when I cried, and by the time we left the classroom I was completely in love with him. I started hanging onto him, making it obvious how I felt, and it must’ve freaked him out because he started pretending he didn’t see me in the halls and stopped taking my phone calls. And I was trying to figure out why he wouldn’t like me, and what I came up with was that maybe it was because of you.”

A car sped past me and I watched its receding taillights. All of this felt so separate from me; I hadn’t realized any of it was going on. Sydney had spent more time with me in the beginning of the year, over at the house every night—so was it because our frozen dinners had been the only dinners available? And then, suddenly, without explanation, she’d stopped coming over. Had stopped talking to me soon after. “What do you mean because of me?” I said slowly.

“Not
because
of you exactly, but I knew how it had to seem, me spending all my time with you. I mean if anybody got to know you, you’re obviously amazing and funny and so great to hang out with, but he
didn’t
know you. And it suddenly felt like I had this choice, you know? Like I could decide what kind of person I wanted to become, and how I wanted the rest of high school to be. I didn’t want to hurt you, I seriously didn’t even think what the repercussions might be for you. But I was standing around with David and a handful of kids before gym; somebody asked about you and it was like there was this sudden shifting click in my mind that said,
This is your moment
. So I made up some story, I don’t even remember what. That you still sucked your thumb, or bit off your own toenails, something stupid that everybody should’ve realized was just a joke.”

I made a choked sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob, thinking,
Seriously? Seriously?