Hidden Pictures(29)
She waves it off. “I am fully capable of assessing my child’s mental health.”
“I know—”
“Really? You don’t sound like you do.”
“I’m just worried. Teddy is such a sweet, gentle, innocent boy. But these drawings feel like they’re coming from a different place. They feel dirty to me. Impure. Mitzi thinks—”
“Mitzi? You showed these pictures to Mitzi?”
“She thinks maybe you disturbed something. When you renovated the guest cottage.”
“You talked to Mitzi before you came to us?”
“Because I knew you would react this way!”
“If you mean rationally, then yes, you’re right, I don’t believe a word that woman says. Neither should you. She’s a burnout, Mallory. She’s a drugged-up, fucked-up mess!”
And the words just hang between us. I’ve never heard Caroline swear before. I’ve never heard her use this kind of language to describe an addict.
“Look,” Ted says. “We appreciate your concern, Mallory.” He rests a hand on his wife’s knee. “Don’t we, hon? We’re big believers in honest communication.”
“But we will not blame Teddy’s bedwetting on ghosts,” Caroline says. “You understand that, right? The state would take away my license. Bedwetting is normal. Being shy is normal. Having a pretend playmate is normal. And these pictures—”
“Mommy?”
We all turn and there’s Teddy—standing on the far side of the pool fence, dressed in his fire truck pajamas and holding his Godzilla doll. I have no idea how long he’s been waiting or how much he’s heard.
“I can’t fall asleep.”
“Go back to your room and try again,” Caroline says.
“It’s late, big guy,” Ted says.
Their son looks down at his bare feet. The light from the swimming pool casts his body in a murky blue glow. He looks anxious, like maybe he doesn’t want to go back alone.
“Go on,” Caroline tells him. “I’ll check on you in twenty minutes. But you need to try on your own.”
“Oh, and buddy?” Ted calls. “No more pictures of Anya, okay? You’re scaring Mallory.”
Teddy turns to me—wounded, eyes wide with betrayal.
“No, no, no,” I tell him. “It’s fine—”
Ted holds up the three drawings. “No one wants to see these, buddy. They’re too scary. From now on, draw nice things, okay? Horses, sunflowers.”
Teddy turns and runs across the lawn.
Caroline scowls at her husband. “That was not the right thing to say.”
Ted shrugs and takes another sip of wine. “The kid needs to hear it sooner or later. He starts school in two months. You think his teachers won’t have the same concerns?”
She stands up. “I’m going inside.”
I stand up, too. “Caroline, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you. I was just worried.”
She doesn’t stop or turn around, just marches across the lawn toward the house. “It’s fine, Mallory. Good night.”
But it’s obviously not fine. This is even worse than the last time she yelled at me. She’s so angry, she won’t even look at me. And I feel silly for crying but I can’t help myself.
Why did I have to mention Mitzi?
Why couldn’t I keep my mouth shut?
Ted pulls me close and lets me rest my head on his chest. “Listen, it’s okay, you were just being honest. But when it comes to raising children, the mother is always right. Even when she’s wrong. Do you know what I mean?”
“I’m just worried—”
“Leave the worrying to Caroline. She’ll worry enough for the both of you. She’s very protective of Teddy, haven’t you noticed? We struggled a long time to have him. It was a lot of work. And the ordeal—I guess it left her feeling insecure. Now, on top of all that, she’s gone back to work—a whole new reason to feel guilty! So anytime something goes wrong, my wife takes it very personally.”
I hadn’t considered this before, but everything Ted is saying rings true. In the mornings, when Caroline is running out the door for work, she always seems guilty about leaving the house. Maybe even jealous that I’m the person who gets to stay home and bake cupcakes with Teddy. I’ve been so busy admiring Caroline, I’ve never stopped to think that she might be envious of me.
I’ve managed to catch my breath and stop crying. Ted seems anxious to get back to his house, to check on his wife, and I have one more request before he goes. I hand him the three drawings, absolving myself of all responsibility. “Would you mind taking these? So I don’t have to look at them anymore?”
“Of course.” Ted folds the pages in half and then rips them into pieces. “You’ll never have to see these pictures again.”
10
I sleep poorly and wake up feeling awful. Caroline Maxwell has treated me better than I deserve—she’s welcomed me into her home, she’s trusted me with her child, she’s given me everything I need to start a new life—and I can’t stand knowing she’s angry with me. I lie in bed imagining a hundred different ways to say I’m sorry. And eventually I can’t put it off any longer, I have to get out of bed and face her.