Marissa doesn’t feel as if she has much to give—she needs to save it all for her son—but she can offer Polly this one small thing.
“Actually,” she calls out, “I would really love it if you could make me a cup of tea.”
Polly spins around and wipes away the last of her tears. “Coming right up.”
After Polly serves her the hot chai and goes back to the front of the store, Marissa sips it and stares into space.
Learning more about the extent of Matthew’s depravity only increases her desire to be with Bennett. Her son is the antidote to Matthew’s poison.
Marissa keeps recalling how Bennett had looked walking up the front steps of Rolling Hills this morning, holding his dinosaur diorama in both hands, his big backpack resting on his small shoulders.
Would the other kids stare at him or ask him upsetting questions—or worse?
Marissa has spoken to the principal, and Joan in the front office, and Mrs. Tanaka. They all promised to look out for him.
But children can be vicious, and teachers couldn’t be there all the time. Someone could taunt Bennett in the hallways or in the bathroom: Your dad tried to kill your mom! Or: It’s a good thing your dad is dead!
It’s too much for Bennett’s little shoulders to bear.
She imagines him sitting alone in the lunchroom, or leaning against a tree at recess to hide his tears, and Marissa bends over, wrapping her arms around her waist. Aching for her son.
She’d been so foolish to imagine they could step back into their old lives as easily as slipping on a soft pair of shoes. A week, a month, a year … There would never be enough time to recover.
She’s about to call the school to check in when she hears the jingle of the bell over the door again, then Polly saying Marissa is busy right now.
Leave us alone! Marissa wants to cry. She curls into a tighter curve, wishing she could disappear.
“I only need to talk to her for a minute!” The loud voice is close—and familiar.
When Marissa opens her eyes, she sees Natalie standing on the threshold to the back room in her sky-high heels and leather leggings, her shiny black hair flowing.
“This is a restricted area!” Polly practically shouts. She’s tugging on Natalie’s sleeve, trying to pull her away.
“Jesus, let go of my blouse! It’s Stella McCartney!”
“It’s fine, Polly.” Marissa lifts her head wearily. Why fight it? Whatever Natalie has come to say, she’s clearly determined to say it.
Polly shoots a final angry look at Natalie, then moves away.
“Nice guard dog you’ve got.” Natalie rolls her eyes. “I guess I’m to blame for that. I heard you were looking for an assistant and I knew my boss wanted to help Polly because he’s close to her dad. So, I told him she should apply here. Matthew thought it was best if you didn’t know about my involvement, but I couldn’t resist rubbing it in the other day. Sorry about that. But you have to admit you and I haven’t always had the easiest relationship.”
Marissa blinks. “Is that what you came to tell me?”
Natalie brushes at her sleeve, as if she’s erasing Polly’s touch. “No, this is: I remember how worried I was about Veronica when her father left me. I get that this is a million times worse.”
Marissa looks at Natalie a little more closely and finally says, “Thank you.”
“So don’t worry about Bennett. I’m on it.”
Marissa is bewildered. “You’re on it?”
Natalie looks at her levelly. “All of us moms are. We’ve got him, Marissa.”
Then Natalie turns on her heel and saunters back out.
* * *
Three o’clock takes forever to arrive.
Marissa is in the passenger seat of Skip’s Tesla, waiting for the students to come streaming out of Rolling Hills.
Skip is behind the wheel. He went to work today, too. But he left early to pick up Marissa and Bennett. Together they will drive back to his town house. She doesn’t know how long they will remain there, but Marissa can’t ever imagine wanting to go back to the house she shared with Matthew.
For the moment at least, the town house is their home. Skip took care of everything to make them feel comfortable there.
He’d picked up Sam and his cage, along with clothing and personal items for Bennett and Marissa, so they’d be surrounded by familiar things. He cooks for them—salmon on the grill, or simple pasta dishes—and talks easily with Bennett about the habits of hummingbirds and the mysteries of the solar system. At night, after Bennett falls asleep, Skip’s solid presence is a comfort to Marissa. Sometimes she talks to him about Tina, sharing some of the good memories she has of their friendship. They also discuss Matthew, reassembling the image of the man they both thought they knew.
Matthew knew how I felt about you, Skip told her. But when he offered me an alibi the night Tina was killed, he convinced me I owed it to him to let him have a shot with you. Skip had shaken his head. Turns out I was the one giving him an alibi. I always thought he was a jerk—but I had no idea he was evil.
As the days go by, they talk less about Matthew. More often lately, they’ve simply been watching television together, or reading side-by-side in the living room.
Skip has been the best friend she could imagine.
Nothing more than a friend, though.
Mourn your marriage—or what you thought your marriage was, Avery had said when they’d met for their ninth session. But don’t ever forget the possibilities life holds for you.
Marissa can’t think that far ahead.
But as she unfastens her seat belt and Skip comes around to open her car door, she does allow herself to recall this:
What did you say back when we were teenagers and you told Matthew how you felt about me? she’d asked Skip just last night.
He didn’t blush or look down. He’d simply replied, I told him the first time I kissed you, it was like the first time I saw the ocean.
Skip hadn’t asked why she’d burst into tears. He’d just hugged her.
At three o’clock sharp, the big double doors to the school open. Marissa scans the faces of the students coming down the front steps. A pack of rowdy boys are in the lead, with a teacher loudly admonishing them to walk, not run.
Then she sees Bennett.
He’s all alone.
Her heart leaps into her throat. She wants to race to him and throw her arms around him.
Then she hears a boy call out, “Bennett! Wait!”
It’s his best friend, Charlie.
Then another boy joins them: Lance, the baseball player who wears his sister’s hand-me-down pink cleats. They’re flanking Bennett, one on either side.
Bennett comes closer, and Marissa studies his face. His eyes are clear; his skin tone is even. There are no signs at all he has been crying.
She feels the tightness around her heart ease.
“Bye, Bennett!” a boy calls from a dozen yards away.
Then a small girl wearing a chic little leopard-print jacket calls Bennett’s name, waving. “See you tomorrow!” It’s Veronica, Natalie’s daughter.
As the crowd of kids disperses, Marissa sees Natalie a few yards away, leaning against her shiny Jaguar, surrounded by her usual hangers-on.
But Natalie isn’t talking to them.