A Good Marriage(45)

“He’s such a disgusting pig.” Carolyn’s face hardened. “Someone should deal with him permanently. Erase him from the surface of the earth.” Her voice was vicious, as she reached across the island to give Amanda’s hand a quick squeeze. “I’m sorry. You shouldn’t have to deal with this.”

What a relief not to be alone with it anymore. But now she needed to tell Carolyn the rest, to confess the most frightening part.

“I think, um, I think he might be following me, too.”

“I’m sorry, what?” Carolyn’s eyes were like saucers as she turned toward the windows. “He’s in Park Slope?”

“I don’t know for sure. I haven’t actually seen him,” Amanda said. “But I’m pretty sure he was behind me on my way to the Gate last night. I heard footsteps following me—who else could it be?”

Carolyn’s eyes were on the front window. Amanda braced for her friend to argue, to say something like Come on, he wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t go that far. But Carolyn knew better.

“Fuck no,” Carolyn said with a new can-do tone and a clap of her hands. “We are not going to stand for him following you. Nope. No way.”

“No?”

“Enough of his fucking bullshit,” Carolyn said firmly. “Maybe we can’t have him exterminated. Or we won’t, at least not yet. But he can’t harass you forever. You don’t have to put up with it. You can have him arrested.”

“Arrested?” Amanda looked toward the windows, filled with a mix of dread and delight. “For what?”

“For following you! Get a restraining order.” Carolyn took another large swallow of coffee. She’d finished more than half the mug already. She’d always been that way, a fast drinker—coffee, soda, water. “Then when he violates it—which you and I both know he defi nitely will—you throw his ass in jail.”

“A restraining order,” Amanda said, trying the words on for size.

She’d heard of it, of course. It was a thing people did. It was theoretically a thing she could do. She’d gone so far as to file a complaint back in Sacramento when the calls had started the first time. The nice female officer there had heard Amanda out so patiently. She’d been pretty and young with fiery red hair, pale blue eyes, and a noticeably large chest. The kind of woman who might have experienced a fair amount of harassment herself.

“His breathing,” Amanda had said at the time. “I’d know his breathing anywhere.”

And the female officer had seemed to know exactly what that meant. She’d suggested to Amanda that a complaint would be a good first step. It was something they could do right then at the police station—no judge or other official process required. And while it might have no real legal implications, it would at least create a record.

Carolyn was staring at Amanda intently, waiting for a response. “So?” Carolyn asked. “Will you do it?”

Amanda nodded, though she did not feel convinced. “A restraining order is a good idea.”

“That doesn’t sound like a yes.” Carolyn knew her so well.

Amanda smiled weakly. “I’ll think about it.”

“There’s nothing to think about, Amanda.”

“There shouldn’t be.” Amanda’s face felt hot as tears pushed into her eyes. She felt so terribly weak. “I know that.”

“I believe in you,” Carolyn said firmly and with such love. “And I know you’ll do the right thing.”

And now Amanda needed to change the subject. Because it was getting hard to breathe. She forced a bright smile. “I almost forgot, I have gossip for you.” Carolyn loved gossip. “I just heard it last night.”

“What’s that?” Carolyn asked with narrowed eyes. She was onto this changing-of-the-subject nonsense, but she also seemed intrigued.

“It sounds like, well, like they have some kind of sex parties here, in Park Slope.”

Carolyn choked on her coffee. “What?”

“Yes, apparently.”

Carolyn’s face was positively aglow. “The patron saints of sanctimony? That is the best thing I’ve ever heard.”

It wasn’t that Carolyn disliked Park Slope, but she was suspicious of perfect things. And Park Slope, with its picturesque tree-lined streets, gorgeous brownstones, and giggling children, had been ripped from a storybook, then had all the artificial flavoring and high-fructose corn syrup rinsed clean.

Amanda smiled. “I thought you’d enjoy it.”

“Oh, yes,” Carolyn breathed. “But now I need details. All of them.”

“I’m not saying they do it every weekend, but it sounds like there’s at least this one party every summer.”

Carolyn’s mouth was agape. “Wait, do your friends Maude and Sarah have sex with each other’s husbands?”

“No, no,” Amanda said, like that was so absurd. “At least I don’t think so. Sarah doesn’t participate—or hasn’t. It sounds like that’s maybe only because her husband won’t. For Maude and her husband, apparently, it’s a regular thing. They go with other people, not only at their parties but all the time.”

“How can you sound so calm about this!” Carolyn cried.