She was pulling his shirt over his head, kissing his shoulders, his chest. His body surprised him by responding the way it always had. Her mouth tasted familiar—sweet and salty at the same time. He tugged her hair away from her face the way she liked and she moaned a little. Her neck was warm and she smelled like the ocean, which brought back Ellie in the bikini. He wanted that Ellie again and held on tightly. She was holding on tightly, too. When he pulled off her sweatshirt, he took a moment to admire his wife. He knew her body inside and out. He couldn’t have imagined that she could still excite him this way. He pulled off her sweatpants and she glowed in the moonlight. He leaned in to kiss her again, but Ellie had another idea.
She pushed him back on the bed and ran her hands down his stomach, then unbuttoned his fly and worked off his jeans and his boxers. Before launching into her trademark move, she gave him a look that could have preceded jumping out of an airplane.
When he’d first encountered it, the move had seemed impossible. It was nothing short of awe-inspiring. And after more than a decade, he still wasn’t sure exactly how she created the swirling effect. He peeked from his prone position and watched her head bob up and down and from side to side between his legs. Watching her used to excite him. Now he studied her with the interest of an academic researching a paper. He lay back and stared at the ceiling, wondering what the hell he was doing.
The excitement from a few minutes before had drained away. His body was on autopilot. He knew all the steps by heart. After she completed the virtuoso performance, she’d expect him to return the favor before they’d be allowed to move on to the main event. He wondered if all couples who’d been together a long time had checklist sex. He tried to imagine checklist sex with Jess but it was impossible. He kept drifting back to the Blue Moon motel. There had been nothing rote about what had happened there. He needed to stop comparing the two separate events, which, unfortunately, were separated by a very small window. It was a mess he’d single-handedly created. One more to add to his growing collection.
He decided he had to see it through, now that they’d made it this far. The truth was, he could do this in his sleep. He had on many occasions.
He was close, though he knew there were more steps to check off. Before the next sixty seconds were up, she’d pull back and it would be his turn. But he didn’t want to go down on her. He’d made the commitment to have sex, but hadn’t agreed to follow the steps. He wouldn’t do it. He couldn’t. She traveled back up on cue and he reached between her legs and found the spot. She moaned and gripped his arms the way she always had. Desire, love, intimacy—those things had nothing to do with what was happening, he realized now. He had to end this sooner rather than later. Ellie lay back, ready for him to follow protocol. She pulled him toward her, but the last thing he wanted to do now was kiss her. How could she not know that?
Instead, he rolled her over on her stomach and pulled up her hips, figuring he could get the job done most quickly this way. She let out a groan. He knew she didn’t like this position.
I like looking you in the eye
, she used to say. He tried to remove himself from the reality of what his body was doing. This was just a dream, one he wanted to wake up from soon. When she grabbed his balls, he knew she wanted it over too. All it took was a few strategic yanks for the whole God-awful experiment to be over. The results were conclusive.
Ellie pulled the covers over herself and they lay awkwardly next to each other. He wanted to explain, but there was no good way to do it. “I …,” he started. “We need to …”
“You don’t have to say anything,” Ellie offered.
“I do. I have to say something.” He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Ellie …” He propped himself up to look at her. “We can’t be married anymore. I don’t want to be married anymore.”
She nodded and tears welled behind her eyes.
He thought about putting his arm around her, but didn’t. “It’ll be better for both of us.”
“I just … I wanted us to be okay. For Toby.”
“He’ll be fine,” Sean said. He would make sure of it.
“Toby would have been the happiest kid in the world.” She wiped her eyes with the heel of her hand. “If we could have stayed together.”
“He can still be happy,” he said, quietly. “He has two parents who love him.” The unspoken truth was that they no longer loved
each other
. He felt a deep, unshakable sadness at the finality of it.
“Poor Toby,” she said, her voice cracking.
It was unbearable to think about the pain he was about to inflict on his son. “Kids get through these things,” he said, knowing this had to be true. “We’ll be there for him.”
The words hung between them in the quiet room.
“So …” She was trying to pull herself together. “What do we do now?”
S
HE PACKED A BAG THAT NIGHT AND IN THE MORNING SHE KNELT
in front of Toby. He’d grown since the last time she perched in front of him like this, and now she was eye level with his shoulder. “I’m going away for a while,” she said. “To Montauk.”
“No!” Toby threw his arms around her. “Don’t go, Mommy.” He held on tightly. “Stay.”
Tears filled Ellie’s eyes. “I promise I won’t leave again like I did last time. Not ever. Your dad and I have to figure out how it’s going to work. But I’m going to see you very soon. Promise. And I’ll call you tonight.” She kissed him on the head. “Love you forever.”
After she disappeared down the hallway, Toby kicked around the apartment morosely for half an hour.
“It’s going to be better this time,” Sean said. “Way better. You’ll see.”
“I miss her.”
“I know.” All Sean had wanted was to be free from Ellie, but now that she was gone, he and Toby had to remember how to be here without her. They’d done it once. They could do it again. “Want to go to the park?”
Toby shrugged. “Nah.”
“Monopoly?”
He shook his head.
“Ice skating?”
Toby must have smelled his desperation. “Video arcade?” A smile spread across his formerly glum face. How could Sean refuse that smile? The kid was a born negotiator.
“Get your shoes.” Toby jumped up before Sean could change his mind.
By that night, they were back in a groove. Just the two of them. He reclaimed his bedroom and lay back on the bed where he’d been with Ellie the night before. A younger version of himself would have considered last night a conquest, or at least a release. But now he only felt sad, guilty, and a little dirty. He changed the sheets and pillow cases—anything that still smelled like Ellie. Finally, he climbed into his bed alone and realized it was even more comfortable than he’d remembered. The only thing that would make it perfect would be to have Jess next to him. Or underneath. No, on top. He opened his laptop.
Tell your mother’s voice she can stop worrying now
.
After he sent the email, he tried to figure out logistics for the next day. Maureen had said she wanted quality time with Toby. It looked like she was going to get it. On the phone, he explained that Ellie had to go out of town for a few days. She could tell her mother what she wanted. He wasn’t going to be the bearer of this news.
When she came over the next morning, Maureen brought baking pans and flour. Did she really think he didn’t have any at the apartment? “We’re going to have a fun day,” she told Toby. “I’m so glad your dad called me.”
“Thanks for being here, Maureen,” Sean said, meaning it. He scooped up Toby, suddenly hating the idea of leaving him. “Love you Tobe. I miss you already.”
Toby rolled his eyes but continued to smile. “Have a good day at work, Dad.”
Toby was fine. Things were good. So why did leaving for work make his heart ache?
In the lobby, Manny was pointing madly at the mailboxes. “Mail!” he said. “Lots of mail!”
He hadn’t checked his mail in days. Maybe a week. Mail had sunk to the bottom of his priority list. “Here you go.” Manny handed him a thick stack that had been rubber banded together.
He plopped down on one of the red leather chairs no one ever sat on and pulled over the trashcan. He dumped every catalog and flyer and coupon packet and made a stack of bills. When he saw the envelope from Dr. Altherra, he froze. Time rewound to the moment he found her last envelope in the mail. The moment that had set the whole awful chain of events in motion. The moment he wished he could delete from his life. A sick feeling spread through him.
He ripped it open and read the note, which was scrawled in loopy handwriting.
Dear Sean
,
Please find two sets of Conners scales. One from before we administered medication, and one from the week before Toby went to the hospital. I hope this helps give you some peace as to the decision you made. I’m so glad Toby has pulled through this ordeal. He is such a lovely child
.
Warmly
,
Dr. Angela Altherra
He scanned the pages, but none of it made sense. He forced himself to slow down and read every word. His head spun with the wrongness of it. The pages described another child, a boisterous troublemaker who couldn’t follow directions or give coherent answers to questions because he was so distracted. Worst of all, the most damning report had been written by Jess. Even Shineman wouldn’t write something as boldly false as this. Jess was just like the rest of them after all. She’d been lying to him this whole time.
She’d
done this to Toby. Less than twenty-four hours ago he’d been sponging off her breasts, thinking that he wanted to do this every day of his life. He was an idiot. She was a traitor, out for herself, her job.
He fumbled for his phone and left a desperate message for Angela Altherra. She called him back less than a minute later.
“This isn’t Toby,” he screamed at her, holding the pages lamely up to the phone. “It’s all untrue.”
“It’s always a shock for parents of ADHD children to read a report by the child’s teachers,” she said. “I can’t tell you how many times I get that reaction. I always make sure to get at least three separate teachers to fill out the forms, just to make sure I’m getting the full picture.”
“Jess Harper, his teacher, told me she thought Toby was fine. That he might not have needed the drugs at all,” he said.
“Well that’s not what her report says.”
“What if the report is wrong?”
“Sean, you have to stop thinking this way. It’s not helpful.”
“If these reports are wrong, the diagnosis is wrong,” he was practically shouting. Manny raised his eyebrows from across the room. “True or false?”
“Sean, the Conners scales are only part of the—”
“Will you answer the goddamn question? If these reports didn’t show ADD behavior you would never have prescribed those drugs.”
She hesitated. “In this case, I guess I’d say that was true, but—”
He snapped the phone shut and ran to Broadway to hail a cab.
I
F HE HADN
’
T BEEN SO FURIOUS WITH
J
ESS
,
WALKING INTO
B
RADLEY
again might have been more emotionally fraught. But now his vision blurred with rage. Why had he trusted her? She was a Bradley teacher. He should have known better. The more he knew about this place, the more he believed it was pure evil.
He sprinted up the curved staircase two steps at a time until he reached Toby’s old classroom. He watched Jess for a moment through a rectangle of glass in the door. He barged in as she was writing equations on the board. “I need to talk to you.”
Jess and the kids all turned to stare at him. Shock was the first thing he saw in her eyes. Then annoyance. “I’m teaching class,” she said, stating the obvious, but he didn’t budge. Then he saw fear. “Is everything okay? Did something happen?”
“I need to talk to you. Now.” She tensed at the coldness in his voice.
She turned to the kids. “Miss Bix will finish the lesson.” The assistant teacher took her place at the board and Jess came into the hallway, shutting the door behind her.
“What happened? Is Toby okay?”
“You tell me.” He shoved the papers in her face and she backed away from the force of it. “Did you really think I wasn’t going to find out?”
“Shh. They can hear everything.” She led him to a dark classroom, flicked on the light and closed the door after them. “Find out what?” She was trying to keep her voice down, even in here. “Why are you acting so weird?”
He shook the papers in front of her until she took them and started to read. “What is this?” She scanned the page and her eyes landed on her signature. “This is not …” She read on. “I never …” She flipped through to the end. “What is this? Where’d you get it?”
Fear twisted through him. “From the doctor.”
“I didn’t write this,” she said. The color had gone out of her face.
“But … what do you mean? It’s your signature.”
“Why would I lie to you?”
She wouldn’t lie to him. He knew it then. “Oh God,” he said. The wall of anger inside him cracked and the room started to reel.
“Look, I’ll prove it.” She grabbed a pencil from a découpaged coffee can on the desk.
“No, you don’t need to—”
But she was already signing her name on a scrap of red construction paper. She held it up against the signature on the bottom of the Conners scale.
The one on the form was too careful, too studied. She hadn’t recommended medication for Toby. “So who signed this? And why?”
“This is a nightmare,” she said, “Do I need a lawyer? I think I need a lawyer.”
“I don’t know,” he said, trying to imagine all the ways something like this could implicate Jess. “Yeah, probably.”
She clenched the forged document and raced out of the room. “Come on.” He ran to keep up as she sped down the stairs to the basement level. They passed the art room, the nurse’s office, and the gym.
“Where are we going?” he asked. But she was already knocking on Shineman’s door.