Neighborly(96)

Despite all Andie’s done and how Doug told me he didn’t even like her, there he is, looking shattered. I feel myself shattering, too. He shouldn’t look like that.

Then he says, “What can I do? I’ll tell the police whatever you want.”

It dawns on me: he thinks I killed Andie. That’s why he looks like that. He’s not thinking of her; he’s thinking of me. He looks shattered because he thinks I might be guilty of murder, and he’s offering to tell whatever lie will protect me.

“I didn’t kill her. Nolan did.”

He exhales, his relief palpable in the room. “But why would Nolan . . . Because of . . . ?”

“No, it’s not because he thinks you slept with Andie.” There’s so much I need to tell him, including who Ellen is. Who Layton is. Who I am.

I can’t keep secrets anymore, for my own sanity. I want to live clean for Sadie, and for me.

I’m too exhausted to think, but I know this: we need to get out of this house that we never should have bought—not only because of Ellen but because we can’t afford it. We should never have taken something we didn’t earn, especially when it came with so many strings attached.

The AV is Ellen’s, and she can have it back.

“We need to get out of this house,” I say. “Have your parents buy you out, and then we’ll move into an apartment somewhere. We’ll do our best to get past what’s happened, and then we’ll buy a house within our means.”

Silence.

“You’re right,” he finally says. “We can’t stay here. I’ve been stupid, and I’ve been cruel, and I’ve tried to keep up with the Joneses, and in the process, I’ve hurt you and shattered your trust. But I promise you, we’ll get it back.”

I reach out my hand. “Let’s go to bed,” I say.

In the morning, I’ll tell him everything. Because he needs to know if we’re going to get the trust back. Because he deserves to know, as my husband. But most of all, because I deserve to be able to tell, without shame. I didn’t do anything wrong, and now Ellen knows it, too, and that makes all the difference.





CHAPTER 38

Moving out of the AV is pretty different from moving in. There’s no block party this time. The neighbors come by, two by two like on Noah’s ark: Raquel and Bart, Gina and Oliver, Tennyson and Vic. They tell me they understand and they hope we’ll stay in touch. I don’t know what it is they could possibly understand, but I hug them back anyway.

Brandon has a big bag of clothes and toys for me, and he asks if he can bring the next batch to wherever I’m living. I tell him absolutely.

I’m touched that Yolanda and Wyatt show up, and while there are no hugs from either of them, I appreciate that they wish me well. “I’m glad Wyatt got to be a hero,” Yolanda allows. They can spin it however they want. All I know is, I’m walking out of this neighborhood a free woman, an accessory to nothing.

I have no hard feelings, really, toward any of them. They’re just regular people struggling through, and they want a community that will make it easier. They want something egalitarian and democratic; their aspirations are noble. The AV is no throwback to a kinder, gentler time like I first thought. It’s incestuous and it’s fraught, but they’re all genuinely trying for their own strange kind of utopia. Trans-urban indeed.

They want to know each other’s secrets, sure, but they also truly want to know each other. There’s love between these people. Ties that bind (and gag—sometimes literally). It’s complicated, like family. I think they love June, though I don’t know how many of them know about Ellen.

It was never too good to be true. It was always exactly good enough (and bad enough) to be true.

Doug’s starting therapy, too. In a strange way, it’s nice to realize I’m not the only one with issues.

For Doug and me, openness was never going to work. I’d kept so much of my past from him that we couldn’t start from a place of transparency, which seems to be the prerequisite. Plus, I have so many issues I still need to figure out that there was no way I could give Doug, or myself, permission to be with anyone else.

The real surprise is that Doug is finally admitting he has issues, too. Now, whether they can be fixed, or whether they’ll fit together with mine—that’s an open question. But the fact that we’re about to wrestle with it makes me hopeful.

Neighbors-with-benefits is not the reason my marriage is in tumult. I don’t think it would have mattered if we’d opted in or opted out. It would all have come to light eventually. It seems like openness is just amplification. If you were happy, you’re happier; if you were unhappy, you’re unhappier. It doesn’t save you or destroy you. You do that yourselves. Cracks in the foundation will eventually be exposed, and openness is no quick fix. Relationships are work, however you play them.

The AV proves that generally, people are not good or bad; they’re simply warring with their own impulses, good and bad. I just need to surround myself with people who win that battle most of the time. And I have to engage in that fight myself, so that I can embody not just the mother I want to be but the person: kind and loving and open, when it’s warranted. My neighborhood will be a reflection of me, and vice versa.

Someday, I’m going to tell Sadie about my past. It’ll be an expurgated version, but enough for her to get the gist. I need her to learn that her body is her own and that any sex she has needs to be sex she truly wants. When it isn’t, she needs to be able to speak up and say that. I want her to discover her body herself first, in her own time, and make sure anyone who enters it is worthy. She’ll be the girl, and the woman, I never was but still hope to be.