Social Lives (37 page)

Jacks reached out and grabbed Kelly, squeezing her tight. She had taken on the worst of it, holding their father like he were the child, letting him crawl into bed beside her and hold on to her through the night. Jacks had seen them in the mornings, their father asleep, wrapped up in the fetal position and clinging to a little girl who just lay there quietly and without expression. By the time Kelly finally left, Jacks had learned where to hide, and their father had learned how to drink to numb whatever it was he was feeling. Neither of them had forgotten.

Shaking it all off, Kelly pulled away. “Listen to me, now,” she said. Her voice was unsteady. “You have to get away. Get the money from Barlow, take the kids, and leave.”

Jacks thought about what she was asking. Taking the kids would destroy David.

“What if I can help him? I'm not a little girl anymore. I can get him help. Somewhere inside that man is my husband.”

Kelly was shaking her head, her face determined as though she had just made a decision that would alter her forever. “I've been so selfish. I should have told you to leave that first day you came to my house with those letters. I didn't want it to end, I wanted the school for my kids and these trips together, and everything we've had all these years. I'm so sorry, Jacks. I should have told you then. I knew. . . .” She was off now, traveling down some oneway road, the only road she could see in the future.

But Jacks was not giving up. “Kelly, I can help him! Didn't you hear me?”

“No. Don't say that. Don't say you can help him. You can't. No one can.”

They stood there, side by side, staring at each other as though they were the only two people in the world.

“I can help him,” Jacks said again, and Kelly could see that she believed it. But there had been a time when she had believed things as well.

“You can't. And you have three daughters in that house.”

Jacks had no response that would satisfy her sister. She would never abandon her girls with a sick man the way their mother had. Still, there were enough parallels.

The phone began to buzz again in Jacks's pocket. She pulled it out and checked the number calling. Then she looked up at Kelly.

“It's Barlow. What should I do?”

Kelly didn't hesitate. “Answer it.”

 

 

 

 

 

Cbow: Hi TF. You there?

Caitlin waited for a reply. It was a long shot on Christmas, but the day had come and gone for most people. Santa bullshit in the morning, the big meal at dusk. All that quality family time really wore people out. It was now half past eleven, and the rest of her house was asleep—except her mother, who would putter around until Cait finally turned out her light. As if she would do it again, take the car and slaughter two deer. The blood was gone, but her mother would never stop seeing it in the giant holes the bulldozer had removed from her perfect winter wonderland.

Totallyfkd: Hey Cbow. Merry Merry and all that crap.

Caitlin felt the smile stretch from ear to ear. For the past three days, TF was the only one who had kept her going. Her brother had steered clear. Apparently guilt could be added to the long list of things men couldn't deal with. Every time he saw her black-and-blue face, he turned on his heels and headed for the Wii. Then there was Daddy, with his constant tear-shedding, and Mother Dearest with that bitchy silence. No one seemed to know what
to do with her. Except TF, who did the one thing she really needed. She listened.

 

Totallyfkd: How's the face? Still look like Darth Vader?

Cbow: Not as much. More like Hilary Swank in Million Dollar Baby.

Totallyfkd: Nice.

Cbow: Yeah. It's good for freaking out my little brothers. How was xmas?

Totallyfkd: Sucked.

Cbow: Mine too. Get any decent loot?

Totallyfkd: Lots of clothes. All too small. My mother can't admit to herself that I'm a size 10.

Cbow: Sucks. Can you return for cash?

Totallyfkd: I'm gonna try. What up with DH?

Cbow: Ugh. Finally got the text. Came at like eleven. He wanted to meet me after the party.

Totallyfkd: That would have been fun. Losing it in the hospital. Get any good drugs?

Cbow: I was high for two days. Still have five pills.

Totallyfkd: Nice. So what did he say?

Cbow: Didn't tell him.

Totallyfkd: No way.

Cbow: What was I gonna say? I was so desperate to see you I got stoned and crashed a car into a herd of innocent bambies? I told him I was sick. Totallyfkd: So what's the new plan?

Cbow: I'm gonna lay low til my face heals. Then we're good to go. He keeps texting me. I think the playing hard to get thing is working. Not that I planned it. Still.

Totallyfkd: It's cool. Lay low and work it baby! What does he say?

Cbow: Just stuff about music, bitching about life.

Totallyfkd: Does he talk about the night in the car?

Cbow: Sometimes. He sounds embarrassed. Sounds like he wants to get it right next time.

Totallyfkd: I know I'm a drag, but are you sure you wanna go through with it? Seems like DH makes you a little loco.

Cbow: Ha. Funny. He's been really cool. And it was all in my head cause he did text me that night. I just didn't wait long enough.

Totallyfkd: I hate waiting for guys. Why don't they ever have to wait for us?

Cbow: My Dad says it all evens out after you get married.

Totallyfkd: Lovely. Can't wait.

Cbow: I gotta go cause ice queen's lurking. I can see the light from the kitchen. But thanks for everything. You saved me the last few days. Totallyfkd: No prob. What are friends for?

Cbow: Are you OK?

Totallyfkd: Yeah fine. Got a bitch of a paper for this English teacher. We call him the bear cause he's really hairy and big. And cause he's a bear in general. Talk soon?

Cait paused for a second, staring at the screen. Wasn't that the nickname of the English teacher at the Academy? Kyle had told her that in the car. The Bear. She was certain of it.

 

Totallyfkd: You there cbow?

Cbow: Yeah, sorry. Talk soon. Luv ya.

Totallyfkd: You too babe. Hang in there. XO.

Cbow: XO.

Cait logged off the IM, but her eyes still could not leave the screen. What were the chances that there was another upper-school English teacher called the Bear? She started to think about everything she knew from TF. It was a private school. Had to be because they had the same vacation schedule. All the public schools went back right after New Year's Day. At least around here. Maybe she was from the Midwest, or Canada? Still, too many pieces were beginning to fit. She lived in a place where the seasons changed. She'd mentioned once that it was cold. She drove a car, so she probably didn't live in the city. Her family had gone to Smith, a traditional Northeastern school, and now she was going there as well. Had she mentioned playing squash, or was that just Cait?
Damn it!
She had to remember everything.

Her mind was racing now. Could TF live in Wilshire? Could she be a student at the Academy? She'd described herself as a nobody senior. Cait didn't know many seniors. She logged in to Google and searched for teachers nicknamed the Bear. All the relevant hits were from kids with My-Space pages, all from Wilshire. An hour went by, searching, thinking,
scanning last year's yearbook. It could be any of these girls, living this secret life on the Internet, being her friend. The boundaries of cyberfriends had never bothered her before, but now she felt like she had to know this girl, had to find out who she was. There was a chance to make it real, and she was suddenly overcome with a new obsession. Finding the girl named Totallyfkd.

 

 

 

 

 

“W
E PULLED IT OFF
. One more year come and gone.” Sara sat on the couch in the man cave, the only room that was finished and dust free. They had set up the tree there, even though the room was the coldest in the house, with its sleek black leather furniture and dark wood-paneled walls. It was not the Christmas Sara had hoped for, the one in the new family room with the soft yellow walls and fireplace, cushy sofas, and the smell of turkey pouring in from the kitchen. None of that had been possible, thanks to Roy and the construction delays. Still, it had been nice. Santa's arrival. Annie's glee at the pile of gifts. Now she was in bed, exhausted and fast asleep, and Nick and Sara were alone.

They had taken the first commercial flight back from West Palm Beach, and it had been nothing short of blissful. Long lines, overcrowded airport, and crammed seating on the plane. There was no food service, and they'd been too rushed to get anything in the terminal. Through the aggravation and hunger, the pushing and shoving as people struggled with their packages, Sara had been smiling. This was her world, one she understood, and the relief at the normalcy of it had almost made her forget the odd connection she'd forged with Ernest Barlow, and the horrific circumstances that had necessitated their hasty departure.

Nick sat beside her on the black leather love seat, bundling her in his arms as they watched the lights flicker on the tree.

“It was great. You did a nice job with everything. And . . . ,” he said, kissing her on the back of her head. “You seem like yourself again.”

“Thanks, sweetie. I feel like myself again. I'm sorry I was such a pain in the ass down there.”

“No. Don't be sorry. You've always been a pain in the ass, and I love you anyway.”

Sara nudged him as she leaned back farther against his body. “You really like the sweater?” she asked, noticing that he'd already put it on.

“What's not to like about cashmere?”

“True. It feels nice from where I'm sitting.”

Nick felt warm against her. They'd placed so many things on hold until after the holidays. The construction problems, the talk of another baby and everything else that had come up around it, things that involved every corner of their lives. Sara had said nothing more about her unhappiness in Wilshire, and the possibility that she was unhappy with her life as a whole, their life that they had begun to build together. Now Christmas was taking its last gasp, and these things would soon be back on the table.

“I wish we could stay like this. Just like this.”

“It does feel good.”

“Why do you think it's so hard? When we wake up tomorrow and it all starts again. Work, Roy, Nanna, the club membership . . . ,” Nick said, his thoughts rambling.

“And the baby.” Sara knew it was on his mind, and probably a lot farther up on the list than the country club. He didn't respond. He didn't want to, not tonight. But he was right. Here she was, feeling about her husband the way she had the night they met, safe and warm and fiercely attracted. And yet, if she let herself, the memories of their trip to Florida could just as easily come back in, making her wonder if their marriage would survive the daily struggles of life. She had felt disdain for her husband at how much he seemed to enjoy the whole damned thing—the jet, the golf, the steak dinner. She had clung to Ernest Barlow as though he were the only air to breathe down there, simply because he was the only human being who seemed to share her X-ray vision of the place. And it had made her wonder if that was how easily it happened, affairs and divorces. A slipped connection with a spouse, replaced by
a new connection with someone else. She had felt vulnerable to it, and it made her question everything, even now as she felt the strength of her love for Nick. Was it just them, or were all marriages that vulnerable? She was too damned young to know the answer.

“I remember your face,” Nick said after a moment.

“I'm sitting right here.”

“No. From that night. I remember your face. It killed me.”