Neighborly(53)

I try not to think about how expensive sushi is. Instead, I appreciate his effort. I thank him and lay out the plates and chopsticks on the kitchen table. He sits opposite me, feeding Sadie a bottle as he gazes at her adoringly. “Don’t wait for me,” he says. “Dive in.”

I also try to ignore the fact that he hasn’t touched me or made eye contact.

He likes the rolls, while I like the sashimi, which means I can tell easily what’s mine. Slowly, I eat the ahi, yellowtail, salmon, and mackerel, allowing myself unfettered pleasure with each bite. I savor.

He shouldn’t have splurged, but I decide not to care. I chew languorously. I luxuriate. When Doug and I used to go out to dinner, before Sadie, eating could be a sensual experience, not simply a refueling. This is the woman I used to be, and perhaps that’s who Doug is trying to conjure. He didn’t call me crazy, I remind myself, not exactly. He just said I was different. Well, I can be that person again.

Sensual. That makes me think of girls’ night. I’m pretty sure there was flirting and dancing. But with whom? All I can remember is the heat of bodies pressing in on me, and that I liked the feeling.

Does Doug need to know how I acted? If I don’t tell him, will one of the neighbors? I wouldn’t blame him for feeling hurt. He hasn’t seen that side of me in a long time.

“I have another surprise for you,” he says. “I’m going to build the kitchen cart tonight.”

“Thank you. That means a lot to me.”

I take Sadie, and he starts in on his maki. He doesn’t look up as he says, “What do you think about my going out to a sports bar on Main tonight to watch the game with all the guys? After I’ve finished the cart.”

So the cart is just a ploy so he can go watch the game. Not that I would have stopped him from going, even without the cart. Doesn’t he know me better than that?

“Which guys?” I ask.

“Bart, Oliver, Nolan, Vic. Wyatt begged off.”

It’s all his new friends, the husbands of the women from girls’ night out. What if they want to get together so they can warm Doug up to the idea of the openness?

“Go,” I say. “Have fun.” Maybe Doug can be the one to bring it up to me, the one to say no.

He nods slowly. Then, out of nowhere, he says, “You know you can tell me anything.”

I nod slowly back and lie, “I do know that.”

Session 68.

“What did it mean to you, that there were so many?”

“It wasn’t that many.”

“From what I read, eight victims came forward, though they didn’t all testify.”

“What does that say to you? It says to me that at least some of them were lying. They probably misinterpreted him. They wanted to feel special, and they misunderstood his kindness.”

“Like—”

“I’m just saying, people like to blame other people. They don’t like to take responsibility. That’s the whole problem with society.”

“I feel like you’re deflecting a bit. Let’s not talk about them. Let’s talk about you.”

“We’ve already talked about me, ad nauseum. I’m sick of talking about me and about feelings. It doesn’t really get us anywhere. I’m still stuck being who I am. I’m stuck being part of this terrible story, betrayed and alone. I just want to run away. I wish I could change my name or my face. I’m afraid this is going to follow me everywhere.”

“Do people recognize you?”

“Not often, but enough. The newspaper can’t show photographs of minors, but once in a great while, it happens. And in Haines, people talk. I never go back there. It’s unfair. None of this is my fault.”

“No, it’s not. But you do have to make sense of it.”

“I have to come out of my denial, is what you mean.”

“Possibly.”

“How about you just say it? Just tell me what you really think of me.”

“I’m not here to sit in judgment.”

“Everyone passes judgment. That’s why I need to stop talking and just escape. Find myself a nice guy and marry him and have a baby or two and stop being me.”

“Wherever you go, there you are.”

“Yeah, well, we’ll see.”





CHAPTER 17

I’m trying to think positive, to silence all the niggling doubts, to forget. It’s exhausting. But I’m making progress. I force myself out of the house, and Sadie and I take limited trips to the park and around town. I’m afraid to run into any of the women except Andie, afraid they’ll ask me again if I’ve spoken to Doug, afraid to disappoint them with my answer.

Andie’s the one I want to see, but she seems to be avoiding me. Her texts are friendly but brief, and she’s too busy to go on walks or to lunch. She offered to be my sounding board, but now she won’t let me take her up on it.

Maybe she’s just flaky. She could make overtures to lots of people and never follow through. Better to have found out sooner rather than later, before I get in too deep or share too much. Still, it hurts to have misjudged her. It hurts just to miss her.

I go where I need to; I take care of my responsibilities. While at the grocery store, Sadie has an epic meltdown and my face is aflame, yet I forge ahead. Two different women, obviously mothers themselves, tell me, “Hang in there, Mom!” and I do.