“Are you sure?” Annie said. “I feel like we’re ruining your Christmas Eve.”
“I’m putting my jacket on,” Lena said.
“But—”
“I’ve had years to consider this, Annie,” Lena said, her voice tight and neat. “Better to intervene than have regrets.”
I think it started a few months before the party.
I was up late one night with my nose in a book and heard muffled voices from outside. When I peered through the blinds, I saw movement: shadows darting through the blackness.
It must have been them.
Although I didn’t hear anything that sounded like violence, I sensed danger, or at least its potential. I’ve always been one to trust my hunches, but that night, I chalked the feeling up to the thriller I was reading.
If only I’d turned on the patio lights, used their illumination to drive away the dark, it might have changed everything.
JANUARY
To: “The Best Book Club in the World”
From: [email protected]
Happy New Year Ladies!!!!
The book: PIONEER PARENTING, or as Deb Gallegos calls it, our annual Mommy Guilt Book:
Did you know that suicide rates of 12-to-15-year-olds have increased by two hundred percent?
Did you know that one in five kiddos has mental health issues?
Did you know that there’s a forty percent increase in depression in teens?
Are you as terrified as I am by all of this? Ladies, we need to become part of the SOLUTION!
PIONEER PARENTING by Dr. E. Leona Flimsba examines how implementing a few golden rules from the pre-industrial times WILL translate into a happier, healthier, well-rounded child. We’re talking less screen time and Red 40 and more stories around a campfire!
The place: MY HOUSE!!! 5423 Coyote Trail Road
CHAPTER TWENTY
“Abe might be doing the vandalism,” Dr. Shapiro said. “It’s possible.”
“He says he’s not”—Jen leaned against Dr. Shapiro’s black leather couch—“and he’s never lied to me.”
Jen had asked Dr. Shapiro if they could chat after Abe’s regular individual therapy session. Even if Jen still wasn’t fully committed to the conduct disorder diagnosis, Dr. Shapiro was an excellent listener. The beige walls of her office, the bonsai garden on the coffee table, the gently burbling water feature—Jen found it all very relaxing. When Dr. Shapiro pressed Jen on an issue, it didn’t feel like a slap so much as the welcoming stretch of a tight muscle.
“You sound certain.” Dr. Shapiro’s shiny bob stayed in place even as she cocked her head. “Why do you really need my opinion?”
“Paul and I had a huge fight before the holidays about it,” Jen admitted. “I need a reality check.”
Jen still felt guilty for the fight, and for the silent treatment she’d given Paul the entire next day. She’d tried to apologize, but Paul had assumed all the blame, and sent Jen two dozen roses and a gift card for a spa day at a luxurious resort in the mountains. She was pretty sure she didn’t deserve him.
“Everything’s fine with us now, but am I in denial?”
“You strike me as a good citizen. If you really thought Abe was hurting other people, you’d do something about it.”
Jen shifted in her seat. The assessment seemed too generous.
“If Abe were the vandal, is that even the end of the world? It’s just a little property destruction.”
Dr. Shapiro eyed Jen gravely. “Is that what you really think?”
“No,” Jen admitted.
The property destruction in and of itself wasn’t the problem, even if there was something creepy about how holiday-focused it was. If the vandal was another kid, it would probably be a blip in his development. Through work/music/church/sports, he would find a path back to mainstream functionality.
The problem was if Abe was lying to Jen.
The only time she had felt smug during book club gossip was listening to some of the women talk about their teenagers, who apparently lied all the time, about everything. Abe did not lie to Jen. What was between them, she knew on a cellular level, was pure and true.
But if he was getting thrills from sneaking out alone, if the innocent expression on his face was a mask, well then, Jen had lost touch with something intrinsic to her.
“How’s the rest of your life?” Dr. Shapiro’s voice was as richly resonant as a Tibetan gong. “The non-Abe part, like your ethology research?”
“Work’s a bit of a slog right now.”
An understatement.