Eva
She called me and asked me to make supper for Morgan while she tried to arrange bail. Didn’t call Hannah, called me. See? I wanted to say. If only I’d been the one in the carriage house, how easy this would be. But no, you didn’t want me that close. I tried not to be hurt by that, that you’d choose your sister over me, because that would hurt Hannah. Ay, what a pickle we were all in.
I made mac and cheese because I knew Morgan loved it. She came home from school and did her homework while the casserole bubbled in the oven. I knew Hannah was home, had seen her car at the curb, heard Miles say goodbye to Morgan after walking her to her door. I knew they were there but didn’t invite them over. I thought Hillary and Ben would have their hands full.
When the door chimed open and I heard the alarm code click off, I expected to see two of them, but only Hillary was there.
“Don’t ask,” she said with a sigh.
“Dinner’s almost ready,” I said quietly, biding my time. I wouldn’t ask, but I certainly expected her to tell.
She poured a glass of red wine and drank an inch of it.
“They set bail too high. It’s going to take a day or two to get the money together.”
I nodded. I didn’t ask how high. I was sure I could read it in the papers the next day.
“Have there been reporters? News vans? Any calls?”
“No,” I said.
The doorbell rang as if on cue.
“Want me to get rid of them?” I asked, secretly delighted by the task of yelling at someone, at pulling the crazy old broad card.
“No,” she sighed. “I’ll face the music.”
I walked out to the edge of the kitchen, just to listen. Just in case. I needn’t have. The screech that arose from Hillary would have sent me out there anyway.
Outside in the circle, Hillary lunged at Hannah, almost knocking her down, screaming at her.
“What do you want? You’re the reason we’re in this mess, you and your so—”
“No, Hillary, I want to help. Can I take Morgan for the night, or tell me what I can do—”
Hillary clawed at Hannah’s fleece jacket and flannel shirt, tearing the front panel. I heard a button hit the stone beneath my feet.
“You!” Hillary said through gritted teeth. “You’re wearing a wire right now, aren’t you? Cozying up to the police, trying to get me to turn on my husband to get your kid off—”
“No! Hillary, you’re crazy. You’ve lost your fucking mind. Stop!”
“Girls!” I just kept saying that over and over, stupidly. As if that could possibly help.
“You think I don’t know you’d lie to get your way? You think I of all people don’t know what you’re capable of?” Hillary screamed.
I reached for Hillary’s arms, pulled at them, and she shook me off each time with a force that might have knocked me down but didn’t.
“You’re probably wearing one, too! Aren’t you, Mother? Both of you! Turned against me!”
I yelled, I clawed, I stuck out my foot to trip her, but she was too wily, too quick. I ran to the side of the house and yanked the hose off its copper tether, unfurling it with a tug that nearly threw my shoulder out. I pulled it to the center of the driveway and aimed the cold stream at them like dogs.
They yelped, shocked, but didn’t stop. Not at first. I walked closer, and the spray gained force. The water in the air curled in frosty whorls, like it had turned to ice.
“Jesus, Mom, okay! If I was wearing a wire, I’d probably be fucking electrocuted!”
“You would not,” I responded. “That’s batteries, not electricity.”
As if I knew. As if I was up on the technological advances of field surveillance.
I took a deep breath while they dripped, took stock, wiped their eyes. I hated being in the middle. I’d rather they were ganging up against me, knocking me over. It was one thing to have accidentally told Hannah something and quite another to get caught having done so. Part of me felt relief that I wouldn’t have to offer anything I knew about Miles in a quid pro quo.
If they’d been arguing over a doll or a book, I would have known precisely what to say. Even in high school, when they argued over something stupid that happened at school or a party, I could offer up a bit of wisdom. But now? I was shocked into silence. I had nothing more to offer, no punishment to mete out. All I could hope for was stopping. That and the glorious fact that Hannah was, in fact, not wearing a wire. Dear God, imagine if she had been?
They seemed to have forgotten that I was even there. They stood back, breathing heavily, eyeing each other. Neither apologizing, neither moving.
The Eyewitness News van rolled slowly up the street.
“Don’t you think this is exactly what they want? A catfight on the nightly news? A family turning on each other? How’s that for a story,” I said.
“Mother,” Hillary said, “you don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Oh, I know more than you think I do,” I said.
Hannah turned and went back to her house silently. Hillary and I watched her walk across the lawn, getting farther and farther away, her dark shirt blending in to the navy of the night. Morgan’s voice came from over my shoulder, wondering if the mac and cheese was ready. Wondering when Daddy was going to be home.
I looked at Hillary. I had plenty of experience telling a child that Daddy wasn’t hungover, he simply had the flu. And zero experience explaining he was in jail for murder.
“We’ll be right in,” Hillary said.
In a few hours, the stars would be out, and all of us, I suspected, would have trouble falling asleep.
“Mom,” Hillary said, “what was the name of Hannah’s old neighbor, the one across the street who stopped talking to her?”
“Marley Klein?”
“That’s right. Marley. I was trying to think of her name yesterday. I remembered it was kind of a cool name.”
“Why?”
“Oh, no reason,” she said breezily, too breezily for a woman who had spent the day at the police station. Too breezily for Hillary.
I’ll tell you how naïve I was—at first, I thought she must be thinking of cool girl names because she was pregnant.