Everyone Here Is Lying(58)

He glances at her. “Fuck, how can you even ask that?”

“You must have asked yourself,” she says.

“He didn’t do it,” Al says. He says it with conviction, as if he’s certain. “He’s not capable of something like that. You should know that—you’re his mother.”

She ignores the implied criticism. “I know,” she says. “I just needed to hear you say it, I guess.” She adds, and she knows she sounds frightened, “I just . . . I’m not sure Oliver believes him.”

There’s a long pause. Then Al says, “He’s a lawyer. He doesn’t care one way or another.”

“I think he cares,” Nora says.

“It doesn’t matter what he thinks,” Al says gruffly. “He’ll do his best for him.”

Does she dare say what’s really on her mind? She begins with a tearful, “This is all my fault.”

Al is silent. She knows he’s not going to disagree with her. He believes in God’s wrath.

She knows he’s furious with her about the affair. Just how angry is he? What might he have done? She stares out the windshield into the deepening dark, into the oncoming traffic. “I’m sorry, Al. I’m sorry about the affair with William, about everything.”

“Oh, you’re sorry now, are you? You weren’t sorry before,” he says nastily. He drives in silence for a little, and then says, with heavy sarcasm, “Maybe Wooler called in the tip himself, to draw attention away from him.”

She turns in the passenger seat and stares at him. “Don’t be ridiculous,” she snaps. “Besides, he would never hurt me like that.”

Al flushes with anger. “You still think he’s innocent?” he asks, sneering at her. “Well, I don’t. I think he killed his daughter. He was probably molesting her himself, the pervert.”

This makes her angry. “You’ve been awfully keen to think William did it from the beginning,” she accuses him. “You’d love to see him go to prison, wouldn’t you? So that we could never be together, is that it?” She’s thrown away all caution now. She doesn’t love this man, it’s William she loves. She doesn’t believe William killed his daughter—why would he? But in her escalating panic she can understand why Al might do it—to punish her and William for what they’ve done. Could he go that far? He’d sat in his car behind the dumpster while they were in the motel, every Tuesday afternoon, for weeks. And then come home and pretended he didn’t know. What else might he have done, with her entirely oblivious?

He’s on their street, and now he pulls into the driveway and turns off the car. She plucks up her courage. “Was it you?” she hisses.

“What?”

“Did you take Avery? To punish me and William? So that he would go to prison? And I would learn my lesson?” She’s shouting now. “But you didn’t anticipate someone lying and saying they saw her get into Ryan’s car, did you? You didn’t see that coming. You seem awfully sure she didn’t get into Ryan’s car! How does it feel, seeing our son in jail for something you did!” She’s speaking quickly now, hysterically, the words tumbling over each other, and suddenly she feels a hard slap across her face. The blow stuns her, leaves her face turned to the passenger-side window. She stops talking abruptly.

“Shut your goddamn mouth,” he says viciously. “You utter whore.”

She turns back to him again, her face throbbing, her voice hard and cold. “Well, did you?”

He stares at her. “I can’t believe you’re actually asking me that.” She waits. His voice, when he speaks, is low and menacing. “No. I didn’t take her. But I guess now we know what you really think of me. You think I’m capable of killing your lover’s child—a child—but you think he’s innocent, and that he would never hurt you. Where does that leave me, Nora, eh?” He shouts at her now, sitting in the car in their driveway. “Where the fuck does that leave me?”



* * *



? ? ?

Al glares at his wife in fury as she cowers against the passenger-seat door. He wants to strike her, but he restrains himself. He’s already slapped her, and he’s never done that before in his life. He’s never been so angry, not even when he sat behind the dumpster at the motel. This woman, his wife, whom he once loved, hasn’t just slept with another man. She hasn’t just fallen in love with another man. She actually believes he is capable of harming a little girl, just to destroy her happiness.

How did they get to this point?

Abruptly he says, “Get out.”

She opens the car door quickly and flees, slamming it behind her. She runs up the walk, already fishing her house keys out of her purse. She doesn’t look back.

He puts the car in reverse and squeals out of the driveway and down the street, blind with rage. He shouldn’t be driving. But he doesn’t trust himself to be alone in the house with his wife, the house where they brought up their kids.

What will happen to the kids?

He drives out of the town, onto the highway, and realizes he’s sobbing. He can hardly see the road for his tears. His son is in jail. He’s not as sure of him as he pretended to be to Nora. He doesn’t know if Avery got into Ryan’s car. He doesn’t want to believe it. If she did, he’s sure that whatever happened was an accident. Maybe he was just giving her a ride as a favor. Maybe something happened, he doesn’t know what, but Ryan could not have meant to hurt her. He could not have meant to kill her. And then he would be scared and deny everything. That’s Ryan’s way. He loves his son anyway. His son is not a monster.