Hidden Pictures(36)

It’s their third message in a week and Caroline swoops into the kitchen, hurrying to catch the caller before she hangs up. “Hello, this is Caroline.” She shoots me an exasperated look—can you believe this freaking school system??—and carries the phone into the den. Meanwhile Teddy brings me a plate that’s piled high with play toys: plastic eggs and plastic spaghetti and several scoops of plastic ice cream. I shake my head and pretend to be outraged. “I’m pretty sure I ordered bacon!”

Teddy laughs, runs across the room to his toy chest, and returns with a strip of plastic bacon. I’m trying to eavesdrop on Caroline’s call but she’s not saying very much. It’s like the conversations happening at Quiet Time in Teddy’s bedroom, where the other person is doing most of the talking. She’s just saying “Right, right” and “of course” and “no, thank you.”

I pretend to stuff myself with plastic food like a fat hog at a trough. I make a lot of snuffing and snorting noises, and Teddy roars with laughter. Caroline enters the kitchen with the cordless phone and puts it back in the cradle.

“That was your new school principal,” she tells Teddy. “She cannot wait to meet you!”

Then she gives him a big hug and kiss and hurries out the door, because it’s already 7:38 and she’s crazy-late.

After I’ve finished “eating” my breakfast, I pay my pretend bill with pretend money and ask Teddy what he feels like doing. And I guess he’s really in the mood to pretend because he wants to play Enchanted Forest again.

We follow Yellow Brick Road and Dragon Pass down to the Royal River, and then we climb the branches of the Giant Beanstalk until we’re ten feet above the ground. There’s a small hollow in one of the limbs, and Teddy dutifully fills it with small rocks and sharp sticks—an arsenal of weapons, in case we’re ever attacked by goblins.

“Goblins can’t climb trees because their arms are too short,” Teddy explains. “So we can hide in these branches and throw stones at them.”

We spend the morning immersed in a game of endless invention and improvisation. In the Enchanted Forest, everything is possible, nothing is off-limits. Teddy stops on the banks of the Royal River and tells me I should drink the water. He says the river has magical properties that will keep us from getting captured.

“I already have a gallon back at my cottage,” I tell him. “I’ll share it with you when we get home.”

“Perfect!” he exclaims.

And then he skips off down the path, leading the way to the next discovery.

“By the way,” I call after him. “I found the pictures you left for me.”

Teddy looks back and smiles, waiting for me to elaborate.

“The pictures you left on my porch.”

“Of the goblins?”

“No, Teddy, the pictures of Anya being buried. They’re really well done. Did someone help you?”

Now he looks confused—like I’ve abruptly changed the rules of the game without telling him.

“I don’t draw Anya anymore.”

“It’s okay. I’m not upset.”

“But I didn’t do it.”

“You left them on my porch. Under a rock.”

He throws up his hands in exasperation. “Can we just play regular Enchanted Forest? Please? I don’t like this other way.”

“Sure.”

I realize that maybe I’ve introduced the subject at the wrong time. But after we head back to the house for lunch, I don’t want to bring it up anymore. I make us some chicken nuggets and Teddy goes upstairs for Quiet Time. I wait a little while, and then I follow him upstairs and put my ear to his bedroom door. And I can hear the whisper of his pencil moving across the page, scritch scritch scritch.



* * *



Later that afternoon Russell calls and invites me to dinner. I’m still tired from the night before so I suggest pushing it off, but Russell says he’s leaving for a two-week vacation—it has to be tonight. “I found a restaurant near your house. A Cheesecake Factory.”

I almost laugh because Russell is such a stickler for healthful eating. His diet is almost entirely plants and proteins—no added sugars or carbs, just occasional spoonfuls of carob chips and organic honey.

“Cheesecake? You’re serious?”

“I already booked a table. Seven thirty.”

So after Caroline goes home, I shower and put on a dress and on my way out of the cottage I reach for the pile of Teddy’s latest drawings. And then I stop in the doorway, hesitating. After sharing the whole story with Adrian at the bookstore, I know I’d need an hour to get through everything. And so I decide to leave the drawings at home. I want Russell to feel proud of me. I want to project the image of a strong, capable woman thriving in recovery. I don’t want to burden him with all my worries. So I stash the drawings in my nightstand.

The restaurant is big, crowded, thrumming with energy—a typical Cheesecake Factory. The hostess leads me to a table where Russell is waiting. He’s dressed in a navy-blue tracksuit and his favorite HOKA sneakers, the ones he wore in the New York City Marathon. “There she is!” He gives me a hug, then looks me up and down. “What happened, Quinn? You look wiped out.”

“Thanks, Coach. You look good, too.”