The Sweetheart Deal (21 page)

I
couldn't go through his stuff right away. I had to wait until Sunday afternoon, when my mom went running and Garrett went to Home Depot. I was screwed if he kept the paper in his wallet. There was no way I'd ever get it then, but I could always put Andrew to work if I had to. He'd been such a little shit, and he could be good and sneaky, and no one would be surprised if he took Garrett's wallet, and maybe stole some money if I told him to, to cover, but he'd be forgiven fast on account of being the baby and having such a hard time lately.

I remember when Garrett got here, he only had one suitcase, so I knew he hadn't brought much stuff with him.

I closed the door of the guest room and checked the closet first. I went through the shirts on hangers and his suit. Nothing in any of the pockets—I checked twice. I checked the two pairs of shoes he had in there. I opened his suitcase and unzipped and zipped every compartment and pocket.

I felt under the mattress, on all sides, and then lay on the floor and slid under the bed and looked beneath the slats, in case it was right in the middle. I checked the pillowcases. Nothing.

There were four drawers in the dresser. In the top were boxers and socks. In the second some T-shirts, in the third three sweaters, and in the bottom three pairs of pants. I checked the pockets of the pants, which were all empty. I checked the breast pockets of the T-shirts, which were empty too, and would have been a stupid place to hide something anyway. I looked in the top drawer. It disgusted me that my mom had probably seen Garrett wearing these boxers. I pushed stuff around till I could see the wooden bottom of the drawer. Of course there was nothing there. I mashed the boxers and socks back to the way I thought they'd been before I disturbed them, and I heard a little crunch that didn't sound like fabric. I shook all the underwear and tossed them on the floor. I picked up and squeezed each pair of socks, and in the fourth pair, I heard the crunch again. I unrolled the socks and there it was, the note my dad had written and Garrett had signed. I wouldn't need Andrew after all, but Garrett was stupid for not keeping it in his wallet. I put it in my pocket and put all the boxers back in. I didn't care how they looked.

I ran up to my room and put the paper under the loose floorboard with the bottle caps, the condoms, the picture of me and my dad, the St. Christopher medal, and the card from Meredith on top.

W
e didn't belabor it, but after Garrett and I had both talked to Chris, we agreed it had gone as well as it could have and in the end, Chris hadn't wanted to talk about it any more than we'd forced him to or wanted to ourselves. As far as we could tell, Chris believed that it was a onetime thing, and he seemed so eager to brush it under the rug and move past the discomfort of it that we felt confident he wouldn't tell his brothers. I was worried about the aftermath, but while Chris wasn't as friendly as he had been toward Garrett, he wasn't as hostile as I was afraid he'd be. And with me, Chris seemed as embarrassed as I felt with him. So we all tried to continue living as we had before the awkwardness and did the best we could.

Not long after Christopher's discovery, the boys were out of school, and both realities complicated what I'd come to take for granted. I had to exercise a restraint and watchfulness with Garrett that if I'd thought about in advance I would have prepared for, but going along one day at a time as I had been, I was caught off guard.

Although I'd scheduled activities for all three of them that summer, their schedules were staggered over those months, so the boys' presences or absences were often spontaneous and unstructured, and our house—like other families'—became a revolving door for them and their friends.

We couldn't risk being caught again, so there were no more nighttime trysts. Between the boys, and Kevin and Garrett working, the times for the two of us to count on being alone were scarce. A far cry from the school year.

After a few weeks of this fresh gap between Garrett and me, Erin and Mark and their kids went on vacation for two weeks and she asked me to feed their cat and water the plants. Before the first time I went over, I told Garrett that while they were away, Erin hoped he could fix the window.

“The window?” he said. “What window?”

“Right before they left,” I said, “a window broke and there wasn't time to fix it. It's an upstairs window, and I told Erin I would ask you if you could take care of it.”

So the first time I went over to feed the cat, Garrett came with me, and when we were both inside, he asked about the window.

“There is no broken window,” I said. I tugged on his belt and pulled him through the house. “Don't say anything about it. If Brian hears, then Michael will, then Erin.”

Leo and I had never had the scheduled married sex that people said they had to once their lives and families got to a point where such a thing was necessary, but for those two weeks, Erin's house was where Garrett and I had
our
scheduled sex. In the middle of that time, it felt like the most reckless thing to be doing, although in the scheme of things it certainly wasn't. And it was childish, too, sneaking around like a teenager. I had never had sex in my childhood bed, but when we were in high school, Gabe and I had had a party while our parents were away, and my friend Lauren and her boyfriend at the time
had
had sex in my bed—and broke it in the process. Our parents never found out about the party, but I'd had to fabricate an explanation for my broken bed, by confessing to my parents that in their absence I'd gone wild by singing and dancing and jumping on it.

Erin and Mark's house was in a neighborhood where the properties weren't on top of each other, and there was an alley behind their place where I'd drop Garrett before I drove around to the front and let myself in alone, before I let him in the back door. We never stayed long and our clothes never came off completely, but neither of us was quiet. Even days when the boys weren't home, when it was
time to feed the cat
and fix the window
,
we got in my car and went.

“You know what this reminds me of?” he said one day afterward, when we were driving home from Erin's. His put his hand on my knee. “There was a guy I knew in high school, this guy Scott. I didn't go to school with him, he lived down the street from us, but sometimes we'd hang out and smoke pot. We called it ‘walking the dog.' He'd call me and say, ‘You want to come over and walk the dog?'” Garrett laughed. “We
would
walk the dog, but it was our code for getting high. We never just walked his dog.”

Erin's return from vacation brought the beginning of a drought for Garrett and me, with no likely end in sight. And it hinted at the graver expiration date that was nearing. The addition was far more complete than it wasn't; Garrett had almost finished what he'd come out to do. The reality was that the job would likely be done by the end of summer, and by September, Garrett would be back in Boston, even though he was thinking about coming back, in a year or two, and I hadn't encouraged him to stay, or return sooner. I didn't know how to. With no sex, and no mention of its absence, and little discussion of the development of the new room, we went on as we had, and all we could do in the rare moments when it was completely safe was kiss.

A
t the end of July, on the morning Kevin and I started to take down the wall between the kitchen and the addition, I was the most somber I'd been since I started. It was only a wall, but removing it erased what had been the exterior of the house Leo and Audrey had bought and raised their family in. Without that barrier, the new room would be completely integrated into the rest of the house. It was a wall Leo should have been there to raze himself.

We'd turned on the radio and heard fragments of the Mariners game through the noise of our work. The sheet of plastic that hung between the kitchen and the new room waved with the breeze that blew in from the addition's new back door, which we'd left open to get some airflow. It was a hot draft but it was better than nothing. It wasn't even ten yet, but it must have been eighty degrees in that room, and later it would be unbearable.

We pulled off the slats of the wood siding one by one, then tore off the sheathing and tar paper underneath until we'd exposed the studs.

I consolidated the old planks and piles we'd dropped on the floor and passed through the plastic for a glass of water.

“Ah, fuck,” Kevin said. “Goddamn it.”

I walked back into the addition with my water and a glass for him.

“Look at this shit, will you?” He squatted down and peered at the innards of the wall. He poked at the studs with his knife. The tip slipped into the wood like a toothpick penetrating the top of a cake in the oven, all the way to the knife's handle. “
Every
fucking one of these is rotten.”

I squatted next to him to get a better look.

“Well, shit,” I said. “Better than the thing collapsing out of nowhere I guess.”

“Bright side,” said Kevin.

The exterior wall couldn't come out and no new wall was going up today; nothing else could happen. There was no way to progress until we replaced the studs. I was going to have to stay awhile.

I
t was almost the end of July when I decided to purge the boys' closets. It was an early afternoon and everyone was out of the house, even Garrett. He and Kevin had been working, then stopped and everyone left. Something had come up. It was an understatement that I'd neglected the closets for months, and the start of school would be upon us before we knew it, just like every year. In the back of Brian and Andrew's closet, I found a pair of long outgrown cleats, a few of the previous year's school folders and notebooks, and crumpled wads of Christmas wrapping under all of it. As I sorted through, I worried I would find something I didn't want to, and prepared myself not to judge if I did. I purposely didn't go through the boys' things, but if they wanted to keep it that way, they were going to have to keep their shit from piling up. They were too old for this.

I checked Chris's closet too. He took better care of his stuff than his brothers did, but while I was at it, I was going to get rid of anything he'd outgrown or worn out. I wondered how old they would have to be for me to stop thinking this was my job; at the same time, though, I had a feeling I was the one who'd never outgrow it. With the exception of when they came for the funeral, my mother and Leo's mother always did the same thing during their visits to my house, with the linen closet and the spice drawer, whatever they could get their hands on.
I think I'll just clean this out,
they would say before they'd hold up a tattered towel or empty jar and determine:
This can go, it's seen better days
or
No need to keep this, nothing in it.
They left their marks by the clutter they helped rid me of and the windows they cleaned.

In the back of Chris's closet was a small mound: strewn socks, jeans, T-shirts and shorts he'd tossed, careless. Clothes that obviously hadn't made it into the loads of his laundry he'd been so intent on doing. I gathered the pile and when I tried to scoop it all up, I felt a resistance, and when I tugged harder, it was there again, like someone was pulling back, then I heard a crack. I kneeled down and plucked one item off another until I got to a pair of shorts that were caught on one of the floorboards by the waistband. I slid the shorts away. One floorboard was coming up—the one end was still secured, loosely, but the nails on the other had slipped out—exposing the cavity underneath. I assumed I was the one to discover it, so I didn't even think about what I was doing. Inside was like a little tomb. There was a collection buried under the board. Maybe it was decades old, treasures a resident from another century had hidden away. I reached in and pulled them out. I sat back. There was a card from Meredith, a box of condoms, the baby picture of Chris and Leo, and Leo's St. Christopher medal. Two bottle caps. And a piece of paper I unfolded. I fell back against the wall of the closet and stared at what was written on it. I read it until I couldn't look at it anymore.

I
t was so hot we'd all gone out to Sauvie Island to swim. I had to admit, Meredith looked better in a bathing suit than any of the other girls, and since I'd talked to her that day about Garrett, she hadn't bugged me as much. I imagined stealing her bikini and hiding that in my closet. It would be a good thing to have handy.

When I got home that afternoon, my mom was sitting on the front porch. She looked weird. She looked like she did when Gannon's father had come over. Calm but angry calm. Next to her was a glass of white wine. It was pretty full. Next to the glass was the bottle. It was half empty.

“Hi,” she said. “How was your time?”

“Pretty good,” I said.

“I need to talk to you, Chris,” she said.

“Am I late?” I said. “What's wrong?”

“No,” she said. “Sit down.”

“Where's everybody else?” I said.

“I have no idea,” she said. “Out. I need you to sit down.”

I sat.

“I thought I'd do some cleaning today,” she said. “Get ready for school. As far away as that seems.”

“Sorry,” I said. “We should have helped.”

“No, no,” she said. She reached into her front pocket and pulled something out. “Chris, what is this?” She unfolded it.

Fuck
. She had the paper. The paper my dad made Garrett sign.

“I don't know,” I said. “I have no idea.” I squinted at it. “What even is it?”

She put it on the step where our feet were. She covered and rubbed her face with her hands. Jesus, I was glad I'd gotten rid of Ben's mom's stuff. Holy shit.

“You're not in trouble,” she said. “But I need you to tell me the truth. Just like you always have. Chris, I'm not mad at you. I'm sorry, I wasn't snooping. I was cleaning out closets and some of your stuff got caught on the board. I put your other things back. I'm sorry,” she said again.

She didn't say anything about the bottle caps. “It's not mine, obviously,” I said.

“Obviously,” she said. “Where did you get it?”

“Garrett told me about it,” I said. “Back when we had our stupid talk. Before school was out.”

“He told you about it?” she said.

You really couldn't fuck with my mom and I knew that. I was in over my head.

“Yeah,” I said.

“So how did it get in your closet?” she said. “With things that are precious to you.”

“I wanted it,” I said. “I wanted him to give it to me.”

“He gave this to you?” she said. She was getting calmer, which scared me. She took a sip of the wine.

“No,” I said. “I wanted him to but he wouldn't. So I took it.”

“You knew where it was?” she said.

“No, he hid it,” I said. “I looked for it till I found it.” I was dead.

She laughed like it was the funniest thing she ever heard.

I was freaking out. “Mom,” I said. “It's no big deal. Garrett told me. It was like a joke. You know, him and Dad.” I felt sick. “Mom, he doesn't even know I have it.”

“A joke. Some joke.” She picked up the paper off the step and folded it and put it back in her pocket. She touched the back of my hair. “Thanks, Chris,” she said. “Again, I'm really sorry. I didn't mean to snoop. I thought I was the first one to find that board loose.”

“It's okay,” I said. But nothing was okay.

“About the condoms,” she said. “If you're having sex, if you're thinking about having sex, I'm sorry but we need to talk about it. Are things getting serious with Meredith?”

I wanted to disappear. “No, Mom, I'm not. They're not. There's no one. They're not even open.”

“I know,” she said. “But you have them.”

“Someone dared me to buy them,” I said. “A while ago. I wasn't going to not buy a stupid box of condoms because of a dare. I should have just thrown them away. I'm sorry.”

“Okay, but when that time comes, because it's going to,” she said, “we talk, agreed?”

I nodded.

“Let's go in,” she said.

I followed her through the house. She put her glass and the bottle, with what was left of it, on the counter in the kitchen.

A half hour later Garrett, Brian, and Andrew came home.

“Hey,” they all said.

“Hey,” I said.

“Where've you been?” my mom said.

“At the pool,” Andrew said. “It was too hot to do anything else.”

“Kevin and I ran into a problem this morning,” Garrett said. “Things are on hold for the time being, so we just went to the pool.” He laughed. “I can't say I'm that sorry about it.” He put his hand on my mom's shoulder and turned toward the addition. “Come look at this mess we found.”

“Can you boys go rinse and hang your wet suits outside?” she said. “Chris, you too, please.”

Andrew and Brian both had that crease between their eyebrows that we all have when we're confused.

“Hey, Audrey,” Garrett said. “Come here and see this.” He had walked past her and was standing on the other side of the plastic sheet, holding it open.

“No, Garrett, we're going for a ride,” she said. “I'll wait in the car.”

She turned around after she walked past me. “You guys stay here,” she said. “I'll be back soon.”