The ringing stops, then starts again immediately.
“Oh, for God’s sake.” She pulls out her cell phone. “Whoops. This is dead. Might be work, trying to reach me. I told them I was taking the afternoon off and not to disturb me unless someone died.” She opens a slick maple drawer and plugs in her phone, then picks up a black chunk of metal that looks more like the dark side of the Washington Monument than a phone and puts it to her ear. He’s reminded of Maxwell Smart, talking on his shoe.
“Hello? Whoa… Whoa… Stop. Take a breath. I’m sorry. My battery died. I—”
She goes silent, eyes closed, as if memorizing what’s being said, breathing in hard through her nose. “No, you did the right thing. Jesus. Go back to the house, I’ll meet you there.”
She hangs up. Her cell phone has come to life, and he can see the multiple missed calls lighting up the screen.
“Got an emergency? I can handle myself—”
“It’s Olivia… And Park… There’s been… Oh my God.” She sits down on a black leather stool with champagne metal legs and only a few inches of back, biting her lip and running her hands through her hair.
“I’m sorry. I have to go.”
“I’m a big boy, Linds. I can hear their names without falling apart. Time heals all wounds, right? What’s happened?” She starts to take a breath and he, recognizing a sister about to tell a story, says, “CliffsNotes version.”
“Okay. Park donated sperm and has like a gazillion kids, one of them is a murderer, the body was just found this week, the police had both Park and Olivia in for questioning, another woman is missing, a sketch of the suspect is coming out, and we are going to have to move up our press conference.”
He assimilates this information. “Press conference?”
“We need to get ahead of the story. That Park is the suspect’s dad, all that.”
At the look on his face, Lindsey says, “Yeah. I might be late.”
Perry is already on his feet. “I’m coming with you.”
“Are you sure that’s wise, big brother?”
“She needs me.”
Lindsey cocks her head to the side like a spaniel. “And how do you know that? You haven’t talked to her in ten years.”
“She needs me,” he repeats, because now he knows why he’s come, why Nashville was calling him, why he felt compelled to come home. Olivia’s world is spinning off its axis. He is the only one who can put it back.
“I don’t think now is the time, Perry. This situation is fraught enough.”
“I—”
“Listen. I don’t know how much you’re in the loop—”
“I’m not.”
She hesitates. “They’ve been trying to have a kid. Doing fertility treatments, the works. Olivia has miscarried multiple times now, and sadly, again just this week. So seriously, stay here. She’s already stressed out. Adding her old boyfriend to the mix isn’t going to play well, for either of you. Let me ease her into seeing you, okay? I warned her you were coming, and I know she wants to see you. And I know you want to see her, too. But to drop you into the middle of…”
“Of a family crisis.” His voice is cold; he can’t hide the hurt.
Crestfallen, she tries to apologize. “I didn’t mean—”
“That’s exactly what you meant. I’m not a part of this family anymore. I get it, Linds. You go. I’ll stay here like a good dog.”
“Perry—”
“Go!”
She hesitates a moment before grabbing her phone and her keys and disappearing out the door.
Good job. Now you’ve upset her, too. You really do have a way with women, Bender.
A run. He needs to move. It’s his normal activity upon arrival at a new location. Settle in, take a run, get the lay of the land. It will work here in his hometown, too.
Outside, he notices the van only because the extension ladder looks like it might fall off, perched so precariously on the top. Apparently, the van’s owner has realized the problem, has pulled over to the side of the street to tie it down. But he’s struggling with the weight.
“Need help?”
A relieved smile. “Sure.”
It’s easy to get the ladder back into place with two of them, and five minutes later, the van drives off, the workman sticking a hand out of the window in a wave of thanks and goodbye.
At least he was able to help someone today, Perry thinks, and takes off down the hill in the opposite direction, feet slapping the pavement in time with his heart.
23
THE WIFE
Dr. Benedict’s office is designed to be calming. The room is painted a light greige, Sherwin Williams Agreeable Gray—second in popularity in her own designs only to Olivia’s favorite, Repose—complemented with a few pen-and-ink silhouettes hanging on the wall. The throw pillows on the plump sofa are lapis lazuli velvet and down-filled, perfect for hugging to your chest as a shield, and the doctor’s slipper chair is a lovely dove-gray leather with silver accents beneath a globe floor lamp. Olivia likes the space; there is nothing showy, nothing loud. Quiet and gentle, like Benedict.
But right now, Olivia is deciding whether to rip one of the pillows in two in frustration after Benedict’s last probing question, the quintessential therapy staple: “How does this make you feel, Olivia?”
Dr. Benedict watches her, a slight smile on her face, as if she can read Olivia’s thunderous thoughts.
“Fine. I’m fine.”
“You are anything but.” Benedict’s smooth, modulated voice is usually hypnotic, but today, she’s asking hard questions and expecting honest answers; her tone reflects her impatience with Olivia’s obfuscation. She uncrosses her legs and leans forward, the leather of her chair squeaking slightly under the shift of weight. “You can lie to Park. You can lie to yourself. But don’t you lie to me. This is a safe place, and you need to open up. Tell me how you really feel about Park’s children.”
Olivia realizes she is grinding her teeth. She doesn’t like therapy. She doesn’t like having to dig into her emotions, her past, her feelings. Feelings are difficult for her. Unsafe.
“I’m devastated, okay?”
“I’d be shocked if you weren’t. Devastated is a good word. Let’s unpack that.”
Oh, the ridiculous lingo that goes along with trying to repair your psyche. How do you unpack a word? Pull it letter by letter from a suitcase? Here’s the D, now the E, pull harder, that V is being tricky. It makes her think of giving birth, those letters flowing out from between her legs, rushing faster and faster. Red is a word. Blood is a word. And that closes her down again.
“What just happened? Where did you go?” Benedict asks quietly.
Olivia looks out the window. “Can we not do this right now?”
“If you’re not comfortable talking about your feelings, let’s talk about Park. How do you think Park is feeling?”
A scoffing laugh. “Proud.”
“Proud?”
“Yeah. I hear it in his voice. He’s trying not to rub it in, but I can practically see the gears turning in his head. He’s getting everything he’s ever wanted in one fell swoop. It’s like handing him a bag of sea monkeys—just add water, insta-family.” Olivia holds up a hand. “Don’t you dare ask me how that feels. It feels like shit, okay? It feels awful. It feels like there’s a schism between us that will never be mended.”