The New Husband(29)

“Why are you helping me so much, Ben?” I asked.

“Because you’re my friend.” He didn’t hesitate to answer.

“Yeah, but you’re like, really helping. All I ever do is talk about me—my stupid problems. Doesn’t that annoy you?”

“I like a challenge. Your problems are like calculus in people form.”

“Great,” I groaned. “No wonder I can’t understand myself.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but your issues are a lot more interesting than mine.”

“Really? What are yours?”

Ben gave a shrug. “Grades. Test scores. That’s how I’m measured at home. That’s how people see me—the smart kid. If I ever got a C, I think my parents might disown me.”

“Well, I don’t see you like that.”

“You don’t see me as an Aspie either, you just see me as me. Maybe that’s one reason I’m happy to help. Just accept it and let’s move on, okay? Now, what are you going to do?”

“Aspie,” I knew, was shorthand for “Asperger syndrome,” and it was the first time Ben had mentioned his label. I didn’t know how to respond, but Ben’s expression told me I didn’t have to.

“I’m going to tell my mom,” I said, after giving it some thought. “And let her figure it out.”

The rest of the day passed in a blur. I took the bus home, which felt weird, because I was so used to playing sports, or doing something, after school. Simon wasn’t there when I arrived, but eventually he showed up. I hung out in my room with the door closed, Daisy with me. I tried to do my homework, but really all I did was read the same passage in my history book over and over again. I felt like a prisoner, especially with Mom at the grocery store and Connor at football practice, but Simon knew enough not to come check up on me. I even heard him walking around upstairs, but he got it—a closed door meant no company.

My mom finally showed up with Connor. He had his license and would have driven himself to and from football practice if we could have afforded a second car. I came running downstairs (a bit awkwardly, thanks to the boot I still wore) as soon as I heard the front door open. Daisy had gone ahead at a faster pace. Connor, smelling like he had just crawled out of a dirty laundry hamper, was carrying two grocery bags and told me to get the rest in the car. I ignored him (I’m good at that) and instead followed Mom into the kitchen, where I confronted her with the kind of excitement I typically reserved for a straight-A report card.

“Say that again.” Mom looked utterly confused.

I repeated my breathless explanation about the nonexistent hotel reservation, including the motive behind it.

“You think he made up a trip to make me feel bad about my new job? Why on earth would he do that? And why were you even looking into this?” She said it as if I was wrong to go snooping into Simon’s personal business, but I could almost see the gears in Mom’s head churning to translate what I told her—Strawbery Banke, weird timing, no reservation. I thought: We’ve got you now—liar, liar, pants on fire!

But then Mom did something I didn’t expect. She left and didn’t come back for a good long while. I waited in the kitchen, because I didn’t know what else I was supposed to do. When she returned, she was with Simon. Mom looked annoyed, but not angry.

“Will you please explain for the benefit of my exuberantly curious daughter why there might not have been a reservation at the Sheraton for the family trip that we’re rescheduling for a later date?”

Simon did not look like a man about to get caught in a lie. Instead he looked like a teacher trying to stay patient with a disrespectful student.

“As I told your mother, I didn’t book the trip through the hotel.” Simon made it clear I was testing his patience. “I made it through a travel website, so they had the reservation, not the Sheraton. When I canceled, the reservation went away.” Then he crouched down so I could see his face clearly. It wasn’t looking happy. “Do you want to see the receipt, Maggie?”

Connor came into the kitchen, sensed the tension, and asked what was going on. We ignored him.

“Look, I was devastated to miss that field trip,” Simon said. “But I felt it was more important to try to … you know, do something to bring us a little bit closer. And that deal was too good to pass up. Hang on, Maggie. There’s something I want to show you.”

With that, Simon left the room, leaving me to face Mom and her disapproving eyes.

“You’ve got to try to make it easier for us, Mags,” Mom said. “We all need to get along, and Simon does a lot for us that you don’t seem to appreciate.”

I couldn’t look my mom in the eyes, so instead I watched her fiddle with her opal necklace, twirling the dazzling pendant in her fingers. I recognized that necklace, of course: it was the one Simon had bought for Mom’s last birthday. My mom loved opals, but the present had bothered me—the last gift my dad had bought Mom had also been an opal necklace.

“You really called the Sheraton?” Connor said, shaking his head in disbelief.

I felt burning shame rush into my cheeks, even though in my bones I knew Simon wasn’t being truthful.

Eventually Simon returned to the kitchen, showing up in the middle of Mom’s big speech about everyone trying harder, and presented me with a receipt he’d printed off a travel website.