All the Beautiful Lies(14)

“You should get back to Mather,” Harry told Paul, who had just extricated himself from what looked like a stilted one-on-one with Billy Herrick, Chrissie’s husband and one of those men who had married a talkative woman so that he, himself, could retire from the act of small talk.

“You sure?” Paul said.

“Yes, please. I wish I could come with you.”

“You could, you know.”

Harry made a face. “Not really. I mean, Alice . . . and even if she didn’t mind, I don’t think I could stand hanging around with a bunch of drunks celebrating graduation.”

“You wouldn’t have to go to any parties. We could just hang out one last night in my dorm room. Kim would obviously love to see you.”

Harry briefly considered it. Telling Alice that he needed to tie up a couple of loose ends at college, making sure that Chrissie would spend the night so she wouldn’t be alone, and then leaving with Paul, back to college for one more night before the rest of his life began. The thought was tempting, but also exhausting. More concerned people, more condolences. What Harry really wanted to do was to go up to his room, shut the door, strip off his too-tight suit, and crawl under the covers. And there was also a part of him that wanted to stay close to Alice, to not leave her alone in the house. He told Paul he thought he needed to stay, then waited while Paul said good-bye to Alice.

He walked Paul to his car. They hugged good-bye. “You’re not alone, buddy,” Paul said, and Harry was briefly spooked to hear the words, realizing that had been his primary emotion since hearing of his father’s death. He’d felt alone, the world emptied of his family.

“Yeah, well,” Harry said, and began to back away.

“Something wrong beside the obvious?” Paul asked.

“What do you mean?”

“You’ve been not quite yourself this whole year.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Never mind. Now is not the time, obviously. I’m just worried about you, and so is Kim.”

“You Kim’s spokesperson now?”

“Sure, why not?” Paul said, pulling a pack of cigarettes from his jacket pocket. “I’m off. You need anything, like for me to come back, or someone to talk with, just text, okay? And hang in there.”

The Prius’s wheels spun on the crushed shells, then the car was speeding out onto York Street. Harry watched as Paul drove out of sight, a trail of cigarette smoke coming from his lowered window. The air temperature had cooled, and the sky above was dark with crosshatched clouds. Paul’s obvious pity annoyed Harry, and he took several deep breaths. Harry considered going back into the party, saying his good-byes, then retreating to his room, but once he’d walked back through the front door he found himself going immediately to the stairs. He’d talked to everyone he needed to talk to, and no one would blame him for wanting to be alone.

In his room he thought again about the dark-haired woman at the funeral service, wondering who she was. It was easier to think of the mystery of her and not the greater mystery of his father’s death. Maybe Alice knew who she was. Alice, as far as he knew, had always lived in Kennewick, and she knew a lot of people. He’d ask her tomorrow. It would give them something to talk about.





Chapter 6





Then



A week before Alice graduated high school, Edith announced that she wanted to throw a graduation party. Alice initially refused—telling her mother that the last thing she wanted was any kind of party—but finally agreed to a nice dinner at home.

“Invite your friend Gina,” Edith said. “She’s never been here, has she?”

Alice wanted to say, For good reason, but instead told her mother she would check and see if Gina was free, but she doubted it.

The date was set for the Friday night before the Saturday morning graduation. Even though Gina knew all about Alice’s mom—how all she did was drink and take pills, and it was always a small miracle if she made it through dinner without passing out—Alice still wasn’t sure she wanted Gina to actually witness it. Besides, that wasn’t her real life. Alice’s real life was the dinners for two at the French restaurant with Jake—more frequent now—and the nights they spent together watching television, her mother barely even conscious.

Sometimes, when the three of them were together, Alice constructed elaborate fantasies in which Jake and she were married, and Edith was their sickly child. A burden, but one they bore together. But mostly, Alice imagined that it was just the two of them, just Jake and her, living a perfect life together, years and years passing. Somehow, in these daydreams, Alice got older but Jake stayed the same. No one would mistake them for father and daughter. Maybe one day they’d even have their own child. A daughter. Alice sometimes saw her in her mind, and it was as if she were real, an actual child being remembered. She’d love swimming in the ocean, and grow up speaking both French and English because of all the time they’d spend in France. Genevieve would love her mother, but she’d love her father most of all, doting on him.

“My mom is making a big fancy dinner for the night before graduation,” Alice told Gina.

“Are you inviting me?” Gina laughed.

“Thinking about it.”

“I’ll come. I need to see the real Edith in action.”