Best Intentions by Erika Raskin

Author:Erika Raskin
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: St. Martin's Press

CHAPTER TEN

It’s interesting to see how relationships peel away. The first to go are the most superficial ones, of course, the people you chat with only in car-pool lines or the checkout aisles. They get busy when they see me coming now, studying shopping lists or searching their purses. Then there are the women I’ve actually spent time with, have gotten to know—and even liked. Most of them have scattered like dropped coins.

Paige Brice is an exception. She wrote me a beautiful note and offered her home for my parents to stay in. It made me cry. Someday I’ll know what to say to thank her. I got a card from Natalie Hill, too. In a shaky hand, she declared confidence in my innocence and asked me to call. I was touched by the gesture, but I can barely speak with my own family, let alone peripheral people. From the children’s school I received a letter in which outside counseling was recommended for the kids during “this trying period.”

Wycliff’s universe is growing alongside his political aspirations. His candidacy has conferred star quality upon him. It’s the kind I recognize from childhood, the importance of the politician measured by the posturing of those around him. The buzz. I saw it in the hallways of the courthouse before voir dire: people waiting to be acknowledged and momentarily exalted through the attentions of the next attorney general.

Win called. It was the first time we’ve spoken since this whole thing started. He has phoned every day, but I can’t bear to speak with him. Colby tricked me into it last night by telling me it was my father on the line. As soon as I heard Win’s voice, I burst into tears. So did he.

“I wish I could hold you,” he said again and again. To which I could only nod, unseen. Before he called I had been looking in the medicine cabinet, searching for the right cocktail of drugs. Just in case.

Somehow Win seemed to understand what I was contemplating. “This will go away, Marti. And I’ll be here,” he said. “Waiting for you.”

And then he extracted a guarantee that I wouldn’t do anything to harm myself.

I gave it to him. In the grand scheme of things, what’s a broken promise?

* * *

The long weekend was finally over. It had been a rough couple of days, full of nightmares about the accident and temper tantrums born of anxiety. Elliot had been present, but only barely.

Simon climbed into my lap. “I don’t want to go to school. My arm hurts.”

“I’ll give you a Tylenol, sweetie.” I tousled his hair. “At least Mrs. Meridy’s not your teacher. Then you’d have a pain in your butt, too.”

“You’ll get to show everyone your cool cast,” Nina said.

Just as he seemed ready to capitulate, Poppy announced that she hated kindergarten and wasn’t going.

Please give me strength, God.

“Poppy, you have to go to school. It’s the law,” Nina warned, employing one of my more effective parenting tricks. The penal code appealed to the younger children’s fascination with jail, the quintessential Time-Out.

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