A Good Marriage(90)

Amanda





ONE DAY BEFORE THE PARTY


Amanda entered Prospect Park near Garfield Place and headed south. She and Carolyn always met on the far side of the park, near the skating rink. Close by was the most convenient subway stop from Carolyn’s work, and Amanda liked walking through the center of the park, across the long meadow where the dogs could play off-leash before 9:00 a.m. and after 5:00 p.m. The sun was low as Amanda crossed the meadow, the late summer light bathing everything in a buttery gold.

When she finally arrived at the entrance to the rink, Carolyn was nowhere in sight. But she was never late. Was Amanda early? She didn’t know what time it was. She never brought her phone. She hated jogging with the huge thing strapped to her arm.

Amanda looked up and down Prospect Park’s East Drive, then across to the Flatbush Avenue side. No Carolyn.

“Excuse me,” Amanda asked a determined-looking woman with a stroller who was speed-walking her way. “Could you tell me what time it is?”

“Oh, sure,” the woman said as she whipped past. “Eight oh five p.m.”

Carolyn was only five minutes late, though the light was rapidly thinning back there in all those trees and Amanda was beginning to feel nervous standing there all alone. But she needed to be patient. Carolyn worked long hours. She was entitled to be a few minutes late. Besides, Amanda could use the time to decide exactly how she wanted Carolyn to help her.

Because aside from confronting Zach in Amanda’s place, it wasn’t obvious what Carolyn could do. Surely she would tell Amanda she needed to speak up with Zach. But that was easy for Carolyn to say. It came as second nature to her. Without specifics, it would be useless advice for Amanda. All she really knew how to do was run. As far and as fast as she possibly could. She’d been doing it for years. It had a way of steadying her, even when she felt most lost. That was probably why she was doing it now, even in her dreams.

It was six months after her mom died that Daddy came for Amanda in the dark for the first time. After that, she knew exactly why her mom had said “You run if you have to. You run as fast as you can.” Though where Amanda was supposed to go remained a mystery. After all, she was only twelve years old. And so Amanda had started running everywhere she could: to the bus stop and back, to the library, out to Route 24, and around and around the Walmart parking lot. She ran in the flat, uncushioned Keds she wore to school and the one pair of sweatpants she owned, so bulky her knees brushed together. Soon she could run nearly ten miles without much effort, and she was fast. So fast it seemed there might actually be a chance she’d get away, just as soon as she figured out where to go.

Amanda looked around again. Still, no Carolyn. The crowds of bikers and runners were sparser now that twilight had started to sink its long fingers into the sky.

This time, Amanda asked an older man the time. He was wearing headphones, so she had to shout at him twice.

“Eight twenty-one,” he finally shouted back.

Sixteen minutes gone. Had she really been standing there that long? What if something had happened to Carolyn? The subway was incredibly safe—or so Amanda had been told—but people were mugged, they got pushed. And Carolyn could be overconfident.

Or there was that other, much more obvious explanation: her dad. He could have followed Amanda to the park and somehow found a way to head Carolyn off. He was clever that way. What if he’d made it so that Carolyn could never meet Amanda again? A flash of him came at her from the dream, so large and strong, looming in the doorway. All she could think about was him cornering her best friend in some desolate section of the park. Amanda felt light-headed, and then sick. Like she might pass out. She hung her head between her knees until the feeling passed. No, no, no. Her dad had not hurt Carolyn. She was—that was a crazy, crazy thought. Amanda’s nerves had her inventing things. How could her dad possibly follow her and get to Carolyn? Even he could not do that. It was nonsense. A subway delay was so much more likely.

Of all the times for Amanda not to have her phone. Maybe she should go home. If she ran at her usual pace, she could be there within ten minutes, hopefully to a message waiting from Carolyn.

The quickest way was down Center Drive and then up the stairs that cut through the woods. Much faster than heading back up the busier outer loop. Of course, the first rule of city living was that safety lay with the crowd. Even Amanda knew that. But the shortcut would save so much time.

Amanda eyed the quiet trees one last time before spinning toward the woods. She jogged quickly past a series of dark-green dumpsters along the desolate Center Drive, hulking like monsters in the shadows. Between them, the perfect place for someone to hide.

Soon Amanda was at the tall wooden steps, though, rising crooked and steep through the trees—so many trees—running faster than her daddy ever could. She was breathing hard, but feeling strong as she raced up the stairs, two at a time. Even if he was there, he’d never be able to catch her.

Halfway to the top there was a sound to the side, rustling in the trees. Amanda stumbled.

But she sped right back up. Calm down. Keep going. Calm down. Keep going. Just a squirrel, a bird, or one of those sickly raccoons. Go, Amanda commanded herself. It’s nothing. Get home.

But she’d only gone a few more steps when she heard the voice. A man’s voice. Deep and gruff, shredded from a lifetime of Marlboro Reds. Unforgettable. Daddy growling: Amanda. From the same direction as the rustling. He was right there. Close enough to grab hold.