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His mother screamed: I told you they weren’t so fuckin’ perfect!
“No!” he shouted, his wail bouncing off the trees. He stood in the darkness, trying to gather air into his lungs.
Two faces now peered out the tall, rectangular window: Rachel’s husband, Tom, and the teenager who until last year babysat Rachel’s son.
The night flooded with light and Tom stepped out the back door.
“Hello?” he said. “Someone out here?”
He backed closer to the woods, taking shelter in the anonymity of the night.
Tom stepped tentatively forward. One step, two steps. “I can see you standing there,” he said, his arms by his sides. “Do I know you?”
He tried to breathe. Air trickled into his lungs as if it were being tu
“I’m going to go in and call the sheriff now. You can’t be doing this, you know. Standing in people’s yards. Looking through their windows. That’s what you were doing, right?”
“Do you know what you’re fucking doing?” he screamed.
“Pardon me?” Tom said.
“How could you do this to her?” he bellowed.
The man went silent. When he spoke next, his voice had lost its accusatory tone. “Who are you?” he asked, soberly. “Do we know you? Do you know Rachel?”
Chapter 52
HALEY WAS SURPRISED to see a blonde-headed woman sitting in Erica’s living room on Thursday evening when they walked into the house.
The room was sparsely furnished. Aside from a butter-colored leather couch and a coffee table, the only other fixtures in the room were a stuffed buck’s head in the corner and an empty fish tank on a tattered wooden stand.
“Why there,” the woman exclaimed, looking up from a paperback. Her face broke into a warm smile. “You brought home a friend!”
Erica ignored her and led Haley down a hallway.
Haley smiled uncomfortably at the woman and followed Erica.
“Who was that woman?” Haley asked, once in Erica’s room.
“No one important,” Erica mumbled, setting her backpack on the floor. She unzipped it and pulled out two wine bottles and a Styrofoam box that contained a fried oyster po-boy and a heap of crinkly fries the two had taken from their shift at Luke’s.
Haley looked around the small bedroom. It was about the size of Becky’s and there was a small window covered by a dingy, bisque-colored window shade. Brown shag carpet covered the floor and an ancient computer sat atop a walnut desk.
“You have a lot of books,” Haley said, staring at a wall-long bookshelf.
“Yeah,” Erica said. “I read everything I can get my hands on. My mom did, too. Most of those are actually hers.”
The other wall was covered with newspaper clippings. “What are those?”
“New York Times bestseller lists,” Erica said.
“Wow, that must be a year’s worth.”
“Five. Five years.”
Haley sniffed and made a face. “The house smells like. . .”
“Paint?”
Haley nodded. “Yeah, paint fumes.”
“The bimbo can’t quit painting. I think she’s getting bored of my father or something.” Erica lit a cigarette. She took a long drag, then examined it before handing it to Haley. “She’s turning my mother’s greenhouse out back into an aerobics room. Can you believe it?”
***
AN HOUR LATER, Haley stumbled into the hallway, looking for the bathroom. She’d been laughing hard at something Erica had said, something she couldn’t even remember. Something that might not have even been fu
In the bathroom, a book for learning how to cook Mediterranean food lay closed with a pen stuck in its middle and two overstuffed cosmetics bags were propped against the toilet.
She felt woozy. She and Erica had finished off a bottle and a half of the wine and had shared countless cigarettes as they’d talked. And now she was paying for it. Everything was begi
As she stumbled out of the bathroom, she saw the pretty blonde woman leaning against a hallway wall.
“She hates me, don’t she?” the lady asked, her face very kind-looking.
Haley blinked and reached out to hold onto a wall. “Uh. . . I don’t. . . I don’t know,” she said as evenly as she could.
The woman smiled sadly. “I try to be her friend, but I guess there’s only so much someone can do to make another person like them. And it probably don’t help that I’m dating her father. Especially with her mother skipping town and all when she was so small. Probably don’t help either that she loves her mother like nothing else in the world.”
“Probably not,” Haley agreed, and leaned harder into the wall. “I’m. . . Haley, by the way,” she said. “I’m. . . a little drunk.”
The woman laughed heartily. “Pamela,” she said, and extended a soft hand.
“You girls hungry? I have a roast and some dirty rice in the fridge I can heat up.”
“No thanks. We. . . just ate.”
“Oh, okay,” she smiled. “Well, if you change your mind. . .”
“Thanks.”
She looked down at Haley’s toes. “Anytime you’re wantin’ a pedicure, I’d be happy to give you one.”
The two stood in silence for a little while, smiling dumbly at each other.
“Well, I better get back.”
“You do that. Nice meeting you, honey. Real nice.”
Haley tottered into Erica’s bedroom where it was dark except for three lit candles and a small book light that was attached to one of Erica’s books. Erica turned to look at her and the book light moved too, throwing a long shadow across the room. A floor fan was oscillating at the foot of the bed and the room felt pleasantly cool.
Haley dove beneath the sheets.
“Were you talking to her?” Erica asked, and flipped on a lamp.
“Yeah. She seems. . . nice.”
“Well, I wouldn’t talk to her too much if I were you. You could catch stupid.”
Haley laughed and wrapped the comforter around her tighter. She reached over and grabbed a cold crinkly fry from the Styrofoam box, then rolled over to face Erica. She stared at the girl’s tiny features for a little while before speaking. “Do you ever wonder if it’s possible that everyone in your life is a stranger?” she asked. She sat up. “I mean, like, you don’t really know people although you think you do?”
Erica fidgeted for another cigarette. She lit it and sucked in.
Haley went on. “I know, it probably sounds stupid or confusing. . . or both. It’s just, I wonder if it’s ever really safe to love someone. . . or even get close to them. Because these days it just doesn’t seem to me like people even really know each other. . . or what they’re capable of. Like my mom. I never would have thought she’d be capable of abandoning us. Nearly going crazy like she’s done. And Mac. I never thought he was capable of. . . lying to me. Or cheating. . .”
Erica exhaled and licked her lips. “My mother always said that love is an entanglement. If you get too tangled—you lose yourself. It’s just a distraction. A way of escaping into someone else because you think that’ll be what finally makes you happy. Like a drug.” She studied her cigarette. “Besides, we’re not meant to be happy. Not really. It’s just a concept someone made up to make us miserable.”
Haley mulled over her friends words.
“And to answer your question, I guess you can’t ever know someone unless they want you to. And even then, they probably don’t want you to know everything. Everyone has their secrets.”
Haley felt woozy.
“So, what’s going on with Mac?” Erica asked. “I hope it was okay to say what I said. I just thought you should know.”
Haley felt even woozier.
“We haven’t talked since you told me. But I’m glad you said something. It’s something I needed to know.”
The two sat in silence, listening to the crickets outside. After awhile, Erica broke the silence.