I wondered sometimes what would have become of us if we’d just called the police that night on the roof. I’d wanted to, at least at first. Until I’d been reminded of the cost to everyone’s future— mine most importantly. But if we had called someone, Alice might still be alive— she and Keith still together. Instead, that night was still reverberating through all of us— Jonathan with his pathological generosity, Derrick marrying miserable Beth, me working myself numb, and Maeve— well Maeve deserved to be happy, finally. She’d been through enough for one lifetime.
I did wonder if Maeve had gotten the most recent email from Alice’s mom. She’d sent similar ones to all of us previously— usually once or twice a year— resurfacing to blame us for what had happened to Alice. Though this latest message had a newly threatening tone: I know what you did. Still, there was nothing to do but wait for Alice’s mom to retreat back into her grief. So far, she always had. Usually we talked about the messages. At least Maeve and I did. But this time neither of us had said a word. I think we were tacitly agreeing that it would be too much to face on top of the intervention.
“You’ve got a problem with somebody having a drink at seven p.m. on a Friday night?” Finch smiled wryly when I looked at him. Evidently he’d been watching me watch Keith. “You only like to have one kind of fun?”
“Fuck you, Finch,” I said before heading away again, across the room. So much for not taking the bait.
“What the hell is Finch doing here?” I whispered to Derrick, who was standing at a window looking out.
He shrugged. “Being a jerk? Isn’t that all Finch ever does?”
“Did you know he was coming?” It sounded like an accusation. Maybe it was, a little bit.
Derrick and Finch had known each other since they were kids back in Arkansas, though they’d grown up on opposite sides of the tracks, literally. Derrick’s family was wealthy by local standards, Finch the product of abject poverty. Something else for the art world to eat up. Derrick actually introduced Keith to Finch, back when Finch hadn’t yet been paid a dime for his art and Keith was still starting out. Despite that, Derrick didn’t seem to like Finch very much. I never could figure out why he’d helped him in the first place. Though that was Derrick: nice to a fault.
“Of course I didn’t know Finch was coming. Don’t you think I would have warned you guys?” Derrick said. “I was already at the gallery to get Keith when Finch showed up. He asked what we were doing— Keith had a weekend bag. And then he was asking to come like he always does. You know the only reason he wants to hang out with us is because we won’t let him. If we just said yes once in a while, he’d probably lose interest.”
“Did Finch know all of us were going to be here?” I asked— I couldn’t help it. “Or did he think it was just the three of you?”
“Don’t know. I definitely said it was Jonathan’s bachelor party and that Finch shouldn’t come. But you know Keith, Finch gets what Finch wants.” Derrick shook his head in disgust. “I would have pushed back harder, but I was worried Keith might get suspicious. If Finch finds out about the drugs, he’ll fire Keith for sure. Finch’s dad was a meth addict. We can’t do an intervention with him here. It’ll have to wait.”
Not that it mattered what Finch found out, because he’d already fired Keith. But I was the only one who knew that. And given the way I’d found out, it wasn’t like I could tell anyone.
“Except we can’t wait,” I said. “Keith has to get checked into Bright Horizons by Monday, or Jonathan’s dad is going to call in his loan.”
Derrick closed his eyes. “Great.”
I looked out the window. In the side yard a bunch of boards had been stacked in a tall triangle, like someone had prepped the site for a bonfire.
“What’s that?” I asked, tapping my finger against the pane.
Derrick kept his eyes on the boards. “I was just trying to figure that out myself.”
“What’s up with the pyre?” I called across the room to Jonathan.
Jonathan made his way over to look. “That’s— ” He recoiled, only for a split second, but it was unmistakable. “That’s . . . I have absolutely no idea what that is. They’re putting in a deck off the master bedroom at the back, must be related.”
“But, like, arranged like that?” Derrick asked. “It’s kind of . . . weird, don’t you think?”