Jericho looked sick. “You can’t do that, Wesley. Are you insane? If Mars advised you to take this path, then you’re falling for his revenge plot. He knows this is political suicide.”
“We’re just putting a little sunlight on a dark subject, Jericho,” said Mars.
“Better start looking for another job, Wesley. Although I don’t know who would hire you after the truth comes out.” He cornered Wesley. I could hear him whisper, “Come on, man! What are you thinking? This will ruin you. It will ruin both of us.”
And that had been the problem all along, I thought. Jericho had been worried that his part in the hazing might be revealed.
* * *
Later that afternoon, Nina and I sat in my kitchen and waited for Wesley’s news conference on TV.
Wesley walked out to a podium and waved. Mars stood behind him and off to the side a bit.
“Mars looks so spiffy in his suit. I never see him dressed up like that,” said Nina.
Wesley spoke. “In my younger years, I was a member of a fraternity in which a horrible hazing accident occurred. My classmate and dear friend was severely injured, changing his life forever. I am proud to say that in spite of being a paraplegic, he is a husband, a father of three boys, and a successful psychologist. For me, there is nothing worse than knowing this didn’t have to happen to him. He and countless others have been permanently maimed, and far too many have died because of hazing. My own experience has led me to start a nonprofit foundation to help these individuals move forward in their lives, to give them the financial aid they need for their ongoing medical care, and to rid us of hazing rituals altogether.”
“Not too shabby,” said Nina.
“Mars did a pretty good job turning a negative into something positive,” I said. “I never realized how hard his job is. Everyone has done something stupid in their lives.”
Bernie knocked on the kitchen door and entered. He handed each of us a flyer that read
Are you a fan of
Live with Natasha?
The host of your favorite show about all things
domestic is about to be replaced by someone else!
Help us back up our favorite domestic diva,
Natasha, by joining us in a rally to keep
Live with Natasha!
Monday at Noon
The Laughing Hound
Old Town, Alexandria
I was ashamed to admit that I had forgotten all about Tilly replacing Natasha. “This is great, Bernie! I will definitely be there. Is there anything I can do to help?”
“Spread the word.”
“I’ll take Facebook,” said Nina.
“Then I’ll hit Twitter.” I offered.
* * *
Mars moved home that night. The reporters had moved on to other stories, and things calmed down on our street.
* * *
A week later I had chosen bathtubs and shower tile. My dream linen closets were sketched on paper. A painted ceramic sink by a local artist had been ordered for the powder room. My head spun with all the details of mirrors, light fixtures, and faucets. And where exactly did I want electrical outlets? It was turning into a much bigger job than I had anticipated, but I had waited long enough and was thrilled that Cal would begin renovation in October.
It also happened to be the day that Charlene was being released from the hospital. Carrying a bouquet of gladiolas, I crossed the street to Natasha’s house and cut through the side yard to the apartment over the garage. Natasha had left a key under the mat. No one would ever think to look there!
The fall sun shone in through large windows. I set the vase on the round dining table. I removed platters from the refrigerator, took off the covers, and placed them on the table. I put on coffee and tea and poured sparkling apple cider into a pitcher. I checked the time. People would start arriving any minute.
Nina rushed in. “Doesn’t Charlene have a broken leg? How is she going to get up those stairs?”
“It’s not ideal. But it’s better than having to live with Natasha.”
“Will Charlene’s mom be staying with her? I thought she had a store in Maryland.”
“Her partner will be running the store until Charlene can get around on her own again.”
Friends of Charlene’s whom I didn’t know began to gather with gifts of flowers, balloons, exquisite chocolates, and culinary mysteries to keep her occupied while she healed.
Suddenly there was a commotion at the stairs. I snuck through the crowd that gathered. Charlene was trying to walk up by herself, one step at a time. I was glad to see Bernie behind her, ready to catch her if she slipped.
A cheer went up when she reached the top. Mars had carried her collapsible wheelchair up the stairs, and Charlene appeared glad to be able to sit down and catch her breath.
She chattered and hugged friends. After a bit, people helped themselves to food, and the roar subsided. Wolf arrived, carrying a beautiful rustic bowl filled with moss and colorful African violets. I suspected his wife, an avid gardener, had put it together for Charlene.
One of her friends began to ask questions about the night she almost died, and Charlene told us her story.
“Gosh, it all began with Fred. For months I’d had some suspicions about him. He was immaculate. I never saw anything odd at his house, but he never wanted me to go upstairs. I knew his parents had come here from Russia, and that they supposedly lived near Brighton Beach. But he didn’t have any pictures of them around, which I thought was odd. In fact, he didn’t like being photographed. One day I sneaked upstairs and saw his computer setup. I guess a lot of people have a number of computers, but it seemed wrong to me.” She took a sip of sparkling apple cider.
“That night, I broke up with Fred. He was very upset and begged me to reconsider. It turned into something of an argument, so I told him I had to pick up Abby’s cat, Oscar, because Abby was going out of town. That was all true, but it gave me a good reason to leave. I dashed down the street. When I got to Abby’s, I went through the passage to the back like I always did. I knocked on the door and looked in through the glass. Oscar was in his carrier, ready to go, and there was a blue suitcase next to it.
“When Abby didn’t appear, I opened the door and went inside. I heard a thump and the sound of someone falling down the stairs. I saw Abby crumpled at the bottom of the stairs with a cord around her neck. I thought she was dead. When I looked up, a woman, whom I now know was Mia, stood at the top of the stairs. I screamed and ran for the door. But Mia was faster than me. She caught up to me and literally threw me against the fireplace. I think that’s when my leg broke. She started beating me like there was a fury inside her. I thought I would die for sure. I really did.” Charlene wiped tears out of her eyes.
“I was in such pain, I tried to drag myself into a standing position, but she kept kicking me. In my head, and my abdomen, and my back. I had almost given up when Fred arrived. He tore her away from me. I could hear them fighting. But I was scared of him. I was afraid of both of them. I knew I couldn’t take much more. I didn’t realize that my leg was broken. It hurt like the dickens, but at that point everything ached and I was in a panic. I knew I had to get out of there to save myself. I scrambled out the door, trying not to put much weight on my leg. I felt woozy, but I knew I would die if I didn’t hide. I managed to make it to the alley but had to keep going. I opened the first gate I saw. The door to the garage was open. I closed it behind me and found a large tarp. I crawled into a corner and pulled it over me in case one of them looked in the garage. And then I passed out.”