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I trust you
MIA
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I WAIT AN HOUR and text Annie when we are almost at my parents’ house. I keep it non-committal in case she hasn’t heard yet. Everyone in the car is silent. No one knows what to say.
Mia: You okay?
Annie: You know about Dad?
Mia: Yes. I’m so sorry.
Annie: My poor mom. I can’t believe I didn’t realize something was going on. She was so distracted when she came up to see the babies. I actually got mad at her.
Mia: You’ve had a lot going on. Don’t blame yourself.
Annie: And poor Jer. How’s he holding up? I’m so worried about him with everything else with the company. It’s just so much. I’d hate for him to have a relapse.
I frown at my phone, then out the window. The snow is gone down here, but the day is still gray. A relapse? She obviously thinks I know something I don’t know. And if she realizes I don’t know, then she won’t tell me anything. Annie, close as she is to me, will always choose her family over anything else.
Mia: I wouldn’t worry. He’s doing okay.
I pull a face. That better be true. What the hell could he be struggling with? We’ve been dating for a long time, so it has to have been before me. I glance up at Jer, slouched in the passenger seat, his forehead pressed against the passenger window.
He and his dad have always been close, but a distance has grown between them lately. I thought it was just Jer being busy with work, but now I’m not so sure.
Maybe his dad withdrew because of the illness?
I scale through the past few years, but I can’t think of a single thing Annie could be referring to. A relapse?
Drugs? I’ve never seen Jer do anything more than smoke a joint, though I knew he did a lot of cocaine in college.
Alcohol? Maybe. He certainly drinks plenty, but I’ve never known him to go on benders, or drink and drive. I’ve never seen him act like an alcoholic, however alcoholics act.
Sex? The thought almost makes me laugh. Definitely not.
What else do people even become addicted to?
Annie: Hmmmm. I thought we’d moved past it. But he’s under so much stress with the business struggling, and the board, and now Dad. It would be so easy for him to fall back into his old ways.
Old ways? What ‘old ways?’ If he had ‘old ways’, I’d have seen them by now, right? What the hell is she talking about?
Mia: I would know, Annie. He’s been fine.
There’s a pause so long, it becomes ripe with unspoken words. I’d give anything to be with her in person right now, so I could read her face, guess her thoughts.
Mia: Unless you know more than me? Has he been falling back?
Hopefully, that’s sufficiently vague and intelligent-sounding.
Annie: I’m not sure. But I know he asked Mom and Dad for money a few weeks ago. And there’s only one reason I can think of for that.
Mia: Did they give it to him?
Annie: No. Mom cried for days. She was convinced he’d taken out a second mortgage, that the board is suspicious. She even looked into his trips and found Macau and went ballistic. He says it was just business development, but who can say.
Macau? All I know is that it’s off Hong Kong and people go there to party. So, I open the browser and google Macau.
My mind is busy with worries about prostitutes and STDs.
But the first thing that pops up are casinos.
People go to Macau to gamble.
The look in his eyes during poker last night comes back to me.
Who the hell am I engaged to? All this time I’ve thought Jer was nothing but kind and gentle and perfect, and I was the lying, cheating monster. But he’s been gambling? His company is failing? They’re suspicious of him? What else has he been hiding?
I text Stranger with a sinking heart and let him know I can’t tell Jer now. His response makes my heart soar. He is becoming a single bright and shiny spot in my life. The hope to which I cling.
WE DROP OFF PENNY AND DANNY, and I find myself tearing up as I hug them goodbye.
I’ve known Penny for only a few brief days, and yet I’ve come to truly care about her. “I’m going to miss you,” I tell her as we say goodbye at the steps of my parents’ house.
“I’ll miss you too.”
There’s something about Penny that makes me feel like I knew her in another life. An old soul, my mom would probably say. “Tell Mom I’ll call her tomorrow. But with Jer,”−I gesture his way−“I just can’t come in.”
She nods and just as I’m about to climb into the drivers’ seat of Jer’s car and take us home, I hesitate. “Hey Penny. You can trust my brother. Tell him. He won’t disappoint you.”
She smiles, wide and bright. “I will. You should tell your mom your secret. She won’t disappoint you.”
I grimace. Mom would make such a face if I told her, all blinky and repulsed. “I’ll think about it.”
“She might surprise you. That woman loves you so much.”
Her eyes are a pure clear blue. It makes me wonder for a second, maybe I don’t see Mom as clearly as I think I do. I obviously don’t see Jer clearly either.
I climb into the car and the silence of Jer’s grief is oppressive.
We don’t talk much at all. He moves like an old man, like he’s the one who’s sick, like he’s carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. I have a million questions, but I bite my tongue.
Finally, when I can’t stand it anymore, when we’re inside, and he’s sitting on my bed, facing away, staring out the window into the darkness of my own backyard, I open my mouth. “Are you okay?”
His shoulders bunch. “I hate when people ask that question. I’m not going to die, Mia. So sure, I’m okay. But my dad’s dying.”
“Fair enough.” I pull my shirt over my head and tug down my pants, wincing as the tattoo over my shoulder stretches and burns.
He doesn’t look back at me. “I don’t know what I’ll do without him. How the hell will I run the business without his help?”
“He’s taught you what you need to know.” I pull a nightgown over my head. It’s a good lead in, though. Too good. I can’t resist. “Annie mentioned the board was running an investigation. That you’d been under suspicion of embezzlement.”
He glances back at me, his face turning red. “Annie talks too much.”
“She seemed to think I already knew.”
His rubs his neck.
“It’s a reasonable assumption. I mean... most people would tell their fiancé something like that.”
“I didn’t want you to worry.”
I toss my shoes in the corner, taking a deep breath to keep myself calm. “It’s not about worrying. Don’t you think I have a right to know if the man I’m going to marry is in debt? Might lose his job?”
“Everyone is in debt, Mia.”
“Not me.”
“Not everyone lives with a trust fund. Not everyone’s parents pay for them to go to school.”
“I know that. But I also think I should know what kind of debt you’ve got before I marry you.”
He cocks his head. “So, you wouldn’t marry me if I had debt?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Then why does it matter?”
I find my own fists bunching. “Because if we got married, your debt would become mine. I’m not sure I want to take on debt without knowing how much debt there is.”
“If?”
“How much debt, Jer?”
He sucks on his cheeks. “I don’t know. My parents covered my school. I’ve got a mortgage.”
I expected that. “Go on.”
“Some credit card debt. I financed the car.”
“What kind of credit card debt?”
“A few thousand on a couple different cards.”
“How many thousands? How many cards? What’s the total?”
He stands up and paces, his feet swishing on the blue patterned rug. “A couple hundred thousand dollars. Not too much. I’ll pay it off as soon as I get the company back in the black.”
I lower down onto the bed.
He keeps pacing across the room. I can’t look at him. I stare at the wall behind him, listening as he talks about interest rates and greedy bankers.
He took out a jumbo loan on his house. Put down a few hundred thousand dollars. I remember how proud he was. A million-dollar loan. The car, call it another sixty thousand. A few hundred thousand dollars of debt. I bet he’s lying. A few means three to me, but I bet it means five or six to him.
He’s got debt ranging from one to two million dollars. The interest on that alone is crippling.
“Do you gamble?” I ask.
He stops pacing. The silence stretches. “A little.”
“How much do you owe?”
“A few thousand. Not much.”
“Who do you owe?”
“Jesus, Mia. This isn’t a movie. What? You think I owe some mob boss a bunch of money?”
I can’t stir up any words, because... yeah... that’s pretty much exactly what I’m worried about.
He makes a scoffing sound in his throat. “Grow up.”
What the hell do you say to a person when they say that. I AM grown up. I don’t have any debts. I don’t gamble or steal or... cheat.
Oops.
I say nothing. My soul is hardly pure.
Jeremy stalks to the bathroom. “I’m going to shower and go to bed. Can we save the money talk for a day when I didn’t find out my dad was dying?”
The door slams. I sit there for a long time.
Finally, I go back to my phone. There’s a new text from Stranger.
Stranger: Are you sad?
Mia: I’m sad for Jer, and for Annie, and in general for him. He’s a nice man. But I’m fine. Mostly, I’m just frustrated because it means I can’t tell Jer today.
Stranger: I don’t like it but I get it.
Mia: I will tell him. I promise.
Stranger: When?
Mia: As soon as the dust settles, and he’s okay.
Stranger: Is he spending the night with you?
I drop back on the bed, trace my palm over the flowery surface of the bedspread, look around my vibrant pink and blue room. This was where I lay the first time I spoke to Stranger.
We’ve come so far... and yet nothing is really different. Here we are with a pair of phones, a hundred miles and a fiancé between us.
I wonder where he is. Maybe in his spartan room on the leather sectional, picturing me alone with another man. I’d hate that if I were him.
Behind me the pipes in the wall rush with the sound of Jeremy’s shower, and beyond that I hear the splash and splatter of the water against the tiles. What a tangled web I’ve woven. Now it feels like I’m cheating on Stranger.
Mia: Nothing will happen.
Stranger: I don’t like another man being in bed with you.
Mia: It’s not like that. We just got into a fight. We aren’t speaking.
Stranger: You belong in my bed. With me.
Mia: Soon. Trust me.
Stranger: It’s not a matter of trust. I don’t like another man being anywhere close to my woman. That... and I really want to watch you cum on my cock again. You make the best faces.
A dark thrill races through all my secret places. My whole body clenches, remembering the feel of him deep inside. I’m tender. Still hot for him. And the basest parts of me preen and rejoice at being claimed by him that way.
Mia: Give me a week.
Stranger: I fucking hate this. Every single goddamned thing about this situation.
Mia: Me too.
Stranger: One week.
I hold my breath, wondering what he’ll say next. If he’ll say anything at all. If he’ll ask if I’ll have sex with Jer. I won’t. I wonder if he knows that, if he worries, if he trusts me. He doesn’t say anything though.
Just as Jer turns off the shower faucet I text Stranger.
Mia: Nothing will happen between him and me. Nothing has happened for a long time. You don’t need to worry.
Stranger: I trust you, Mia.