Sweet Water(102)

“He would never . . .” I let my words trail because I know they’re falling on deaf ears, and because Josh is right. Martin would put Cash away if it meant preserving his wealth, his business status. He’s that kind of man, and I am just as guilty for marrying him. I can no longer pretend I’m the innocent half in this partnership.

But we aren’t the only parents at fault here.

Alisha had to have known we were there, but how? Cash. Cash had to have been there too? He told his mother. But that would mean he was there and saw us and left his sister too, and I just don’t believe it. Not after what I read about him in the journal, being so overprotective.

The car is quiet again, and this is the longest, shortest car ride of my life. It’s only when I look over at Josh that I see he’s practicing a deep-breathing exercise—in through his nose, out through his mouth. It’s like I’m a toddler he’s grown impatient with because I’ve acted so poorly, and he has no other way to cope.

“You must think I’m terrible.”

“I’ve never thought that, Sarah, but I do think you only see the things you want to see. It’s amazing that you see the good in everyone, but you also fail to see the bad. It’s dangerous.”

I wince at his last words.

“I never knew . . .” I think about Hanna running with me that afternoon around Phipps Conservatory, insinuating Martin’s criminal wrongdoing by saying he and Meat had some really good lawyers to get them out of trouble. I judged her for scouting for men according to their majors, but in a way, she was living a more honest life than I was. Hanna scored a doctor, and they are deliriously happy with their three children, but she’d been transparent about her intentions from the beginning. Meanwhile, I had my head in the clouds, believing what I wanted to believe, and it is dangerous. To myself and everyone around me. I traded everything to become one of the lucky ones.

“But you knew something wasn’t right,” Josh says.

I don’t argue the point. Looking back now, I remember a phrase I hadn’t heard before it was thrown out that day, one my ears had grabbed on to—“settled out of court.” It had sounded so friendly to my eighteen-year-old ears, but as I got older, I had to have known it wasn’t friendly at all.

“Yeah, I think I did.” I chose not to think of it or acknowledge it, because everything else about Martin had seemed so perfect. He said he’d learned his lesson, and I believed him.

Well, he may have learned his lesson about not hazing freshmen, but he didn’t learn his lesson about taking responsibility for his actions, or that human life can’t be bought with money, or that using political agendas to cover those same lives was wrong. I’ve stood by Martin, which is the same as approving of his actions, and now we’ve passed those same tragically hazardous lessons on to Finn.

“I knew it was wrong this time too.” I sniffle. “Martin used Finn to . . .” I can’t finish the sentence because I can’t blame Martin anymore. I was a part of the decision to leave Yazmin, and I can’t deny it any longer, a sick truth.

“It shows he knew just what to say to you. He’s been manipulating you for years.” Josh shakes his head.

I remember what Martin said to me. “Did you lose your glass slipper?” Did he brainwash me?

“I’m sorry, Josh, but I’ve known you again for all of two minutes. How do you know so much about my marriage?”

Josh clears his throat. “Because, when I went back to visit my old house, I did it more than once . . .”

He trails off, and I say nothing. It’s a little strange, but I used to drive by to visit that house too. It’s like a magnet for those who’ve been bewitched by it. Or was there another reason?

“Why?” I’m scared to know the truth.

“Because that’s where I learned how to play guitar. That pergola was my stage.” He sounds almost dreamy. “I hated it and loved it at the same time. It was too large, but it was mine. The backyard spotlights gave me my first taste of what it would be like to perform, and something about how the sound seemed to beat off the stone columns instead of escaping into the sky was special. Can’t explain it.”

He’s right. That’s exactly what it sounded like when he played back there. And then the gravity of Josh’s words hits me, and I shut the journal.

“Wait a second. Have you been sneaking off and playing back there? Floyd and Petty?” My heart is beating furiously. I wasn’t imagining it. Martin and the boys slept soundly, but I’ve always been a light sleeper.

“Wow, those are supposed to be leaded windows. I always played after two a.m., when you good folk are nice and sated in your REM stage. No amp.”

“Holy shit. Thank you for confirming I’m not completely nuts. It always made me smile the next day when I thought I’d heard you play. For a long time, I thought it was your ghost. And what about the rose?”

He nods. “My mother loved that trellis. Those roses.”

Mine too, I think.

“Why did you rip them out?” he asks sadly.

My body wilts into the passenger seat. “That was an accident.”

“Like the signs,” he says.

“What is your problem, really? You left me. This isn’t about signs or roses,” I say, because I’m tired of this. He’s mad at me about something else, and he needs to come out with it.