True Places(21)

“No, it isn’t.” He went to her and stood close. He lifted his hand as if to touch her face, but let it drop. “Guess you haven’t found anyone you can trust.”

Her eyes flashed. “Who says I’m looking?”

“You can find something without looking for it.”

“And you can say things you can’t deliver on.”

“Ouch.” He stepped back. “Does this mean you don’t want to go see Fargo with me tonight?”

“No,” she said. “I’ll go.”

He accepted her acquiescence. Her trust would take time, but he was prepared to be patient.

After two years, Whit asked Suzanne to marry him. She said yes. The joke between them, which they shared eagerly with family and friends, was that Whit had worn her down. The joke was permissible only because it wasn’t true. They knew, and everyone around them also knew, that Suzanne had not been worn down but lifted up. Whit had pulled her up and out of the quicksand of mistrust, where it would’ve been so easy to stay. His business motto worked equally well in the interpersonal arena: No gain without risk. So the joke was that Whit had been persistent and patient, had lovingly cajoled Suzanne into accepting his love. Suzanne had seen Whit for the loyal and good person he was from the start, but had dragged her feet only because they were young, only twenty-three and twenty-five when they began dating, and had time.

As often as the joke was made, Whit never talked about the subtext with Suzanne, because it was a lie. The true subtext was that he really had worn Suzanne down, that his conviction had overcome her reluctance. Whit was proud of himself. But what he would not say aloud was that he knew he loved Suzanne more than she loved him. He had won her over, his dream girl. And he would do anything to make her happy, because he also knew Suzanne’s role was more difficult than his. Suzanne’s love for him, if that word applied, was an escape. If she had not gotten lost in Tanzania, they would not be together. She was pretending, in a sense. And he was doing everything in his power to ensure no one noticed, especially not Suzanne.

Nineteen years later, as he lay in bed with his wife asleep beside him, Whit realized that, at the time, he should have paid more attention to her acquiescence instead of focusing on the challenge of earning her trust. No one gives in without giving something up, and nothing is given up without cost.





CHAPTER 10

Suzanne guided the Navigator through the tight curves of the hospital parking garage, searching for a spot. Brynn sat beside her, hunched over her phone, feet on the dashboard, wet hair hiding her face.

“Are you happy with how you swam in the relay?”

“Yeah. I mean, it was my second-fastest leg ever, not that it helped. Hannah was napping on the block. She was so slow, Phelps couldn’t have made up the time.”

Suzanne pulled into a narrow space and put the car in park. “I’m sure she feels bad about it.”

Brynn shrugged. She held her phone up, closed her eyes, and let her mouth go slack as if she were asleep, and took a photo.

“Brynn, that’s really unkind.”

“What?” she said, laughing. “It’s not like she’ll see it.”

Suzanne knew better. Snapchat photos disappeared after ten seconds, but they could be captured in a screenshot and posted elsewhere. “Anyone can have a bad start. Try to be more generous.”

“Speaking of starts, nice job missing the two hundred.”

Suzanne sighed. “I’m sorry. I had so much to catch up on from the week.”

Brynn cocked her head and looked at her mother. “You missed my best race. You know that’s my best event. But I guess you were too caught up with, you know, the Stray.”

“Don’t be mean, Brynn.” Suzanne slipped her phone into her purse. “Why don’t you come in? Maybe if you met her, you’d have a little more empathy.”

“No, thanks. I’ll wait here.” She fished earbuds from her pocket and inserted them.

Conversation over.

At the nurses’ station, a nurse Suzanne had spoken with several times informed her that Iris had developed a serious staph infection and had been placed in isolation because her erratic behavior put other patients and staff at risk.

“I’m afraid you won’t be able to see her until we get the infection under control.”

“How long will that take?”

The nurse shook her head. “Hopefully not too long. But, as you know, she’s very weak, so we’re watching her closely.”

Suzanne imagined Iris in her bed, staring out the window at the mountains, longing for something familiar. What did the girl have to hope for?

“Please tell her I came by.”

“I will.”

“And please tell her not to worry. We’ll figure something out.” It sounded pointlessly vague, even to her own ears. Suzanne knew she should go, but stalled at the counter, frustrated at not being able to see Iris and worried about the girl’s health. “Have they located any family yet?”

“Not that I’ve heard.” The nurse returned her attention to the computer. “Other than the social worker, all she’s got is you.”

Suzanne retraced her steps to the parking garage, realizing how much she had looked forward to seeing Iris. Was it simply because Iris was a curiosity, a wild creature abruptly caged on the sixth floor of a glass-and-steel building? Suzanne was reminded of a bird trapped in the house last week. It had pushed itself into a high corner, flapping uselessly at the glass, then slid down to the sill, clinging there, panting, unable to grasp the deception of glass. And yet, when she had cornered the bird, cupped it in her hands—so light, so alive—and released it onto the grass, the bird crouched for a moment, as if shaking off a bad dream, before flying off into a comprehensible world where solid things were never clear. Iris could not return to the woods; she would have to learn the nature of glass and steel. Her innocence had been shattered.