The Lies That Bind(96)

“I know. Because it was so late—and you weren’t feeling well. I wanted to. I was going to.”

“But you had sex with me instead.”

“Yes,” he says quietly. “I did.”

We stare at each other for several long seconds before I say, “Fine. So your marriage was shit, and you didn’t want to involve me in that, and you were going to tell me the truth, but you didn’t….How does that explain the insider trading and the running away? Was that Amy’s fault, too? Was it her fault you stole that money?”

“No, it wasn’t. And I’m actually not blaming her for anything. I share the blame for our bad marriage—and at the same time, there really was no blame. We never should have married in the first place.”

I cross my arms and say, “You’ve conveniently avoided mention of your crimes.”

He nods as a funny look crosses his face. “Did you ever wonder why I took that money?”

“Greed, I guess,” I say with a shrug. It is my true, best guess, but I’m also trying to hurt him.

“No, Cecily. I don’t give a shit about money….I needed it for Byron. I needed it to pay for his care and the clinical trial and our travel….I had a friend from high school—a Goldman banker—who asked if I wanted to make some cash doing trades based on his intel. I said no…but then a few months later, this clinical trial came up—and I was desperate. By then things were really bad with Amy, so I didn’t feel right asking her dad to lend it to me. I called my buddy instead, and told him I was in….I never imagined it would get so big…but I only spent the money I needed for my brother. That’s it.”

    “Okay,” I say, thinking that I might have accepted this excuse if he had told me the truth about everything else. But there were just too many lies. “So you came all the way here to tell me this?” I say.

“Yes,” he says. “I would have gone anywhere to tell you this.”

“But I still don’t understand the timing. You say it’s because of the baby—but you knew about the baby months ago….So why now? Why wait all this time?”

“Because I thought you were engaged….But last week, I broke down and googled you, expecting to find a wedding announcement. Instead, I saw that you were in Milwaukee, at a new job….I did a little more digging, and sure enough, I saw that Matthew was still at his firm in New York. I assumed you’d split up….I got hopeful. That’s when I made the decision to stop hiding. So I called Amy and set things straight with her. Then I called a lawyer. He’s negotiating my surrender and plea as we speak.”

“You’re turning yourself in?” I say, feeling the tiniest shift in my heart.

“Yes. To the FBI, here in Milwaukee…My attorney knows I had to drive here and see you first.”

“You drove here?”

“Yeah,” he says, pointing out the window toward the driveway, where I see that old green Pontiac from the cabin. “I couldn’t exactly fly when I’m supposed to be dead.” I can tell he’s trying to make a joke, but neither of us smiles.

Several long seconds tick by before he says, “So…why did you and Matthew break up?”

    I start to tell him that isn’t his business, but decide it really doesn’t matter. So I tell the truth. That at first we were just putting the wedding on hold because Matthew wanted to know who the father was. But then we came to the conclusion that it just wasn’t going to work. For other reasons.

“Wait, what? He didn’t want to get married before you determined paternity?” Grant says, with wide eyes.

“Yeah. Pretty much,” I say, feeling the need to defend Matthew. “And I understand that. He has a right to know.”

“Well, I don’t understand it. If you were mine, I’d do anything and everything to keep you.”

I feel myself softening a little more, completely against my will, but I still say, “Says the person who lied to me and then ran away from me.”

“Yes,” he says. “I did run. And I was ready to keep running….I had a fake passport and all that cash….But I didn’t….I’m here, and I’m turning myself in.”

“Why?” I say.

“Because. It’s the only way—” There’s a catch in his voice, and he stops.

“Only way for what?” I whisper, looking into his eyes.

He looks back at me, just how he used to, then says, “The only way to be a father to this baby.”

I raise my chin and softly say, “It’s probably not yours anyway.”

He nods, then says, “Maybe not. But it would be mine if I were with you.”





September 2006

It’s a beautiful blue-sky day in Manhattan, the first time I’ve been back since leaving the city nearly five years ago. At first I didn’t return because I was too busy (and broke) being a single mother to consider a trip of any kind. But even after Alice passed the exhausting baby and toddler stages, and I started to make more money at the newspaper, I avoided this place, fearing post-traumatic stress from 9/11 and its aftermath.

I’m here now, in part to visit Scottie, who, in a most unlikely twist, moved here with Noah this summer after taking a teaching job at NYU and finally coming out to his parents. We plan to meet up as soon as he gets off work. But for now, I am relishing my alone time, wandering through my old neighborhood, both surprised and relieved to discover that my memories are more good than bad. Maybe it’s simply a matter of time healing all wounds, but more likely it has to do with Alice, and the growing realization that I wouldn’t have my daughter had things been smooth sailing while I lived in New York.