Sweet Water(40)

She met William a few days after she met me, but it was her idea, Finn said, which I found odd. William and Martin both wear Bell & Ross watches because they think they symbolize humbleness at a mere five grand. “Wouldn’t want to wear your wealth on your sleeve,” William said. “Then people will know how much they can take you for.”

Monroe nods. How awful for this girl to have been exposed to William and Mary Alice. They probably made her feel like trash. The stress they caused was probably the reason she needed to smoke pot in the first place.

“She had so much to live for. She’s been through so much.” Finn can matriculate lies out of his mouth as proficiently as his father, but he did care for Yaz—I can tell. Is he lying to protect her somehow? I could’ve never lied to a cop at that age. It makes me wonder what else Finn has lied about, though, and with such competency. Martin too. The slipup about the drugs makes me desperate for answers. What the hell were these kids up to?

“I think that’s enough for today.” Monroe closes his notepad. “I’m sorry for your loss, Finn. I’ll be in touch.”

Martin follows Monroe to the front door and lets him out, but Martin and I are far from done here. We made it through today, but tomorrow is uncertain. A few more days of this and one of us will falter. And it’ll probably be me.

“I need to lay down,” Finn says.

“Good job, son. Go rest,” Martin says, but his voice is chilly.

Good job are never the words I would’ve chosen for successfully lying to the police. What horrible lessons are we teaching here, and at whose expense?

Does Martin really think things went well with Monroe or is he disappointed in his son? I’m so disappointed with everyone at the kitchen counter, including myself, I could scream. This is not the way I was raised. And this is not the way we raised our sons. What we did just undermined eighteen years of good parenting, and there’s no way we can get it back.

Does Martin understand this?

That he’s just destroyed us. That he’s destroyed Finn. We can’t let him go off into the world thinking what happened here today is okay, but I let Finn lumber up the steps. “Get some sleep, honey,” I tell him.

“We need to talk. About everything,” I tell Martin once Finn is out of earshot.

“Sarah, I don’t have time to talk. I have to go to my father’s and discuss options for legal representation for Finn. He has a lot for me to look over.”

“This can’t wait, Martin.”

“It can, Sarah . . .” His voice breaks, but Martin isn’t even looking at me as he says the words, and I’m so unaccustomed to him talking to me this way, I don’t know what to do. It reminds me of how he treated me in the car, like I was invisible.

“I need to go stay at my father’s tonight, then, and I’m taking Finn with me.” I can’t sort my thoughts out with Martin running in and out of the house to poison them. He should experience a night alone, because if he keeps this up, he’ll have a lot more of them. It’s not that he doesn’t want to talk about it right now; it’s the way he dismissed me, as if my opinions on the matter are no longer important. These are decisions about our son we need to make as a couple, Finn’s legal representation included.

He looks at me, stunned. “I know you’re upset, but we need you here tonight, Sarah. We need to be united as a family to get through this.”

“Exactly, so why are you running to your father’s alone? If you’re going to see yours without me, I’m going to see mine. I won’t tell him what happened. I could never tell him what we’ve done.” I choke on my words.

Martin halts in the office doorway, leaning on the massive wooden paneling. My doorway leaner. He’s strayed 180 degrees from that kid lingering in my dorm room, completely unrecognizable now. There’s nothing cute or wily or intellectual about this cold-blooded, manipulative man.

Everything’s changed, including the room he’s standing beside. It used to be the parlor when the real estate agent ushered me through this place so many years ago. It’s now an office where Martin spends his evenings, positioned directly across from the window he installed with his family crest and the curlicue E standing for a name I’m not sure I want to be associated with any longer.

“I don’t know why you think your dad’s so perfect; he’s no better than the rest of us.” Martin’s angry with me for running to another person, another man, but his words feel especially vicious and unjustified.

“I think you’re wrong about that.” I dangle my car keys in his face. “I don’t care how much money you have; you’ll never be as rich as my father.”

Martin laughs, and it’s ugly and mocking. “You’ve always had your head in the clouds, and I’ve let you live there, my dear, because that’s what made you happiest, but it’s time to face the facts. Your father isn’t the perfect man you make him out to be. We all make mistakes.”

I grip the keys in my hand and let them rib my palm. “He would never do what you did.”

Martin chuckles. “What I did? No, what we did, Sarah. You don’t get to take yourself out of the equation just because it’s convenient. Because it makes for a better story in your head.” His words stop me cold, and I wonder if he’s just talking about what happened in those woods. What else does he know about? I’ve always thought he had a hunch about the events leading up to our engagement, but the word—convenient—really gives me pause.