The Guilt Trip(38)
“Why was she bullied?” Rachel asks instead.
“Oh, I’d rather not say,” says Maria, suddenly flustered.
Of all the scenarios that play out in Rachel’s head at that moment, she shocks herself when she settles on an inappropriate relationship with a teacher being the most likely. She can all too easily picture Ali flirting outrageously, encouraging a response and sharing all the sordid details—true or otherwise—with her peers. Rachel imagines it might have made her popular, for a brief moment in time, but as soon as the shit hit the fan, any friends she thought she had would have run for the mountains.
“We had to move schools three times, but the bullying just seemed to follow her wherever she went.”
“That must have been very difficult,” says Rachel, putting a hand on top of Maria’s.
“It was.” She sniffs. “But to see her now, as happy as she is, more than makes up for it.”
“Will is a wonderful man,” says Rachel. “She’s a lucky girl.”
“And he’s a lucky man,” says Maria, smiling wistfully. “I know she’ll make the most loyal and loving wife.”
Rachel forces herself not to balk. Clearly Maria doesn’t know her daughter quite as well as she thinks she does.
11
“Noah!” Rachel calls out as she tentatively edges toward the orange grove that she saw him disappear into. The citrus scent travels on the breeze, which, despite it having a nip to it, Rachel can barely feel as alcohol and adrenaline rush through her system. “Noah!” she says again, her voice struggling to be heard over the chorus of cicadas singing in the trees overhead.
The light is diminishing into nothing the further she goes, and she can feel the ground underneath her wedge heels change; they struggle to negotiate a bumpier surface—soil hardened by the sun. If she wants to avoid a broken ankle, she knows it would be unwise to go any further. “Noah!” she calls out one more time.
“He was just here,” says a slurred voice, the owner of which is only visible by the burning ember of a cigarette end.
“Ali?” Rachel questions falteringly, playing for time to think of what logical reason she’s got to be out here looking for Noah rather than enjoying the party. “I was just…” she starts, not really knowing where she’s going with it.
Ali silently pulls on the cigarette, the orange glow lighting her face. “I’ve just seen him,” she says as she exhales a straight line of smoke up toward the night sky. “He seems pretty shaken up.”
Rachel feels a tug in her chest. “Oh, right. Did you see where he went?”
“Over there,” says Ali, pointing to a white-walled two-story building, set twenty meters or so away from the restaurant. “That’s Paulo’s place. I saw Noah heading around the far side.”
“Oh, great,” says Rachel awkwardly, turning to walk off. “It’s been a lovely dinner.”
Ali doesn’t say another word, but Rachel can feel her eyes burning into her back as she hastily walks toward the soft lighting of a downstairs window. She briefly wonders who’s in there, watching television in a language she doesn’t understand, living a life so far removed from her own. Have they ever been to London? England, even? She finds it so hard to contemplate that so many other people are going about their everyday lives without ever knowing that each other exists. A dog barks, bringing her back.
“Noah!” she says, a little more quietly this time. “Are you there?”
She turns the corner to find him sitting on a plastic garden chair, with his head in his hands. Shadows are dancing all around him as the branches of the surrounding trees briefly let the moonlight filter in, before gently swaying and blocking it out again.
“I … erm.” Now that she’s found him, she doesn’t know what to say.
“What do you want?” he says, in a voice so unlike his own that Rachel instantly regrets coming after him.
“I just…” she starts, before looking around to make sure no one else is there, least of all Ali, who she hopes is too drunk to even remember seeing her out here at all, let alone who she was looking for. “I just wanted to check that you’re okay.”
He makes a derisory snort through his nose. “If you knew me at all, you’d know that I’m not.”
She goes toward him. He needs to see her, to remember who he’s talking to. “Come on,” she says, leaning down and taking his hands in hers. “Let’s not get all heavy. This is supposed to be a celebration.”
“Oh, yes,” he says sarcastically. “Let’s all watch another couple live a lie.”
“And what is that supposed to mean?” As soon as she says it, she wishes she hadn’t.
He looks at her and shrugs his shoulders. “So…?”
“So, what?” she says, even though she’s got a horrible feeling she knows what’s coming.
His gaze is unflinching. “Are you going to tell me the truth or not?”
Rachel drops his hands and looks at the ground. She’d hoped that this day would never come. She’d almost convinced herself that if it ever did, she’d have a cast-iron alibi. But twenty years on, she has no more assurances to offer than back then.
She’d reasoned in her head that the baby must be Jack’s; they’d had sex hundreds of times, while she’d only been with Noah once. Though, inklings of doubt had crept in when she and Jack had tried to add to their brood. Month after month, year after year, nothing had happened.