“You did a wonderful job,” Lena said.
Hilde allowed a brisk nod. With red-apple cheeks and short ponytail, she reminded Lena of the captain of a field hockey team.
But Lena didn’t know if she’d even played field hockey, or whether she was single or attached, gay or straight, a dog or cat owner. Over the past few weeks, Hilde had been a pleasant efficient hum in the background of Lena’s life, not a new paid best friend.
This felt like progress.
“The caterers will start warming things at five,” Hilde said. She checked her watch, which made Lena check hers, too. The Perleys were running late.
“I need to change,” Lena said.
“Go,” Hilde said. “I’ll talk party pacing with DJ Lightning.”
Lena was on the stairs when Rachel called. She picked up, started speaking immediately. “Rachel, I was thinking about what you said and—”
“I remember Annie.” Rachel spoke in a rush.
“I know, and I want to apologize for what I said about your father. I understand how complicated—”
“I remember her.”
Lena suppressed a sigh. There’s a difference between grief and guilt, Rachel, and you have to let it go. I wasn’t a perfect parent, but you have to let it go.
“Okay,” Lena said soothingly. “I can hear that you’re upset.”
“You’re not listening.” Rachel’s yell exploded through the phone. “She was at our party. I noticed her at the bar, and then later I was getting extra napkins and I saw her sneaking up the back stairway. She looked different then, she had this really long hair, and this short low-cut dress. She looked like, well, she looked like she was going to—”
“She looked like she was going to what?” Lena’s throat tightened around a hard lump.
“Please don’t make me say it,” Rachel said.
CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX
The problem was that Abe didn’t see the problem with his video game. He was proud.
“Dr. Shapiro thinks it’s okay,” he said.
His laptop was open in front of them on the kitchen table, frozen on that last horrific screen. Jen reached out to shut it.
“Dr. Shapiro said go kill Laurel Perley in your video game?”
“No, but she’s always telling me to channel my feelings into something harmless.”
“This isn’t what she meant. How would you feel if Laurel killed you in a video game?”
A small smile. “She’s not really smart enough to do that.”
Jen sighed with frustration. “The game is so disturbing that Colin—Colin—forwarded it to her.”
“Colin is not as loyal as you think.”
“What does that even mean?” Jen did not understand why Colin hadn’t come to her first.
Yes you do. You know exactly why. Jen was so in denial, so incapable of seeing Abe clearly that even Colin believed telling her would be pointless.
“I’m trying really hard,” Abe said. “But everything I do is wrong.”
Do you think Abe has plans to hurt his friend?
Jen had looked Nan squarely in the eye and said, Of course not.
“Like the vandalism?” Jen said.
“I didn’t do that.”
“I spend a lot of time defending you.” Jen’s voice was cool. “But I don’t know that I believe you.”
Abe’s neck flushed an angry red. “I’m. Not. The. Vandal.” His scream ripped his voice raw. “Stop doubting me.”
He snatched the pepper shaker from the table, hurled it across the room. Jen watched dispassionately as it crashed into the surface of the island and bounced to the floor, where it broke open, bleeding peppercorns.
She couldn’t do it anymore. Her heart was a husk and all she wanted to do was sleep.
The door from the garage slammed open and shut. “It’s me,” Paul yelled. “Back from the mines.
“Hello, gang!” Paul was slightly breathless as he arrived in the kitchen, suitcase behind him. He looked back and forth between them and the broken glass and the peppercorns spilled across the floor. “What’d I miss?”
No one is writing any condolence notes to the deceased’s parents. People blame them for creating a monster and setting him loose on the world.
I think that life tends to be more complicated that.
He did awful things, yes, but he was so, so young. He had his entire life ahead of him.
I seem to be alone in wanting to believe there was hope for his redemption.
CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN