Heal them? I’d never imagined such a thing was possible.
In our meet and greet after, I elbowed my way to the front of the line to meet Terrance. With my white wine in one hand and my phone to take photos of us in the other, I said if I was made CEO of the Poe Foundation, which hadn’t happened yet, we could go national. That got his interest. I promised to take him and his message to every community that would listen. Together, we could effectively wipe out reincarceration rates. Change the lives of millions of people.
I can feel the detective and the cop staring at me hunched on the step. Pulling up my husband’s white T-shirt, I wipe the tears from my face with the worn cotton. As I find their gazes, I will myself to keep it together. I clear my throat and focus on what matters, which is getting these men to leave so I can make some decisions.
“That is my wallet,” I say. “I met up with Terrance . . .” My voices cracks, but I find steadiness again. “I met up with him for a drink. I must have left it.” I shake my head. “He’s the kind of guy who’d return it right away. I’m sure . . . that’s what happened.”
A horrible thought catches my focus: Was he murdered because I forgot my wallet? Is this my fault?
“You’re sure you came home on your own and without it?” Detective Ramos says slowly.
“Correct.” I nod firmly. “There will be witnesses. Sarah, the Sider bartender, usually works weekends. Sean is the owner. He’s always there. I really can’t tell you anything else. But they’ll vouch for me, I’m sure.”
“Okay,” Detective Ramos says, but he can’t hide the annoyance. “We need a full statement. When your husband returns, we’ll drive you to the station.”
I blink at the evidence bag in the young officer’s hand. My chest aches that Terrance is dead. But I won’t lose sight of what it means to have a cop knock on my door. I need to remember how to act. Remember how to protect myself and my family.
“Now is not a good time,” I say and stand up. I hate that I have on Ethan’s gym clothes. I need my CEO armor of a good suit and tall heels. “You will get a statement from me as soon as possible.”
“Now is better.” Detective Ramos widens his stance and ambles forward, as if he’s about to cuff me.
“You will get a statement,” I say firmly as he continues to approach me. “After I speak to my lawyer.”
At the mention of counsel a vein throbs on his shiny head. “I’ll need that statement very soon, Mrs. Worthington-Smith. Or I come in a cruiser with the lights on.”
“No need to threaten me,” I say, liking the spike of anger instead of all the sadness. “I do know your boss.”
“You mentioned that.” His jaw tics as he steps toward me. “What do you think your neighbors would say, seeing you hauled away in cuffs?”
God, they’d love that. “You’ll be hearing from me,” I say with a smile we both know I don’t mean.
Once their shapes disappear in the direction of Hope Street, I wipe a few more tears. I wonder if they’re passing Terrance’s body out in the alley? How could he be dead? Who would have killed him?
I have to drop back onto the step and begin crying in earnest now that I’m alone. I want to curl up in a ball right on the porch. My head begins to throb even more from the tears, and I feel as if my eyeballs are vibrating in their sockets. I lean back and press a fist into my chest, finding the point of real pain as I blink into the sun.
Terrance can’t be dead.
That detective and that cop being on my doorstep feels like a demarcation of before and after. Before, my only problem was being hungover and maybe saying something stupid last night to the Poe Foundation board. But now, after, it’s murder. How could I have existed in both worlds and not even realized?
I start to feel stares from windows in the houses across the street. I’m not sure if it’s old memories or that I am making a scene, sobbing in Ethan’s gym clothes. That thought manages to get me off the steps and inside.
Sniffing, I wipe my face as I follow the noises of the TV into the living room. Fitz is still watching that family vlog.
“Mom, look at this!” He points his finger at one of the older boys hiding in a cabinet.
I scowl at them and am angry at their smiles, maybe jealous that their only concern is playing a game for their stupid video while the world has changed overnight.
No, it’s more than an abstract idea of “the world.” My life has changed. Terrance was the absolute centerpiece of the Poe Foundation’s moving forward with me as CEO. Months and months of planning and meetings and PowerPoints and strategy sessions are over. Plus, I cared about him. I saw huge things for his future. Our future.
And they found my wallet next to his body.
Fitz sits up and crosses his skinny legs. “Who was that?” he asks. “Your face is red.”
“The police,” I murmur. “A man got hurt last night.”
His eyes go wide. “Who?”
I don’t think Fitz ever met Terrance, and I wonder if I should lie. I don’t want to start crying again. Or make him cry. I shrug and say softly, “It’s all right. How’s your breakfast?”
He holds up a piece of bacon. “You want a bite, Mama?”
Shaking my head no, I feel as if I don’t deserve his kindness. Still, I reach for it. Sitting on the floor, I pull him into my lap, even though he’s getting so big. He curls into my chest and settles his long legs over mine. His feather-fine hair smells like oranges from the organic Honest shampoo that Ethan still insists we buy, even though Fitz is far from a baby.
In and out, I breathe. Holding my son tighter, I promise myself it will all be fine. It will all work out. Everything always does.
Suddenly, I am overwhelmed by his shampoo and the too-sweet smell of mine from when Drunk Me decided to shower. I let him go and stand up, trying to remember the Sider last night. My memories are so fuzzy. Well, blackout is actually the term.
My mind scrambles for details while the vlog family laughs in the background. I wish Ethan were home. After I reach our big picture window, I peer out to see if he’s almost here. My fingers pull on the sheer curtains. I have that feeling of every neighbor watching and judging. Though no one could have heard yet, it’s coming. We’re living in that tire-screeching moment before the crash.
I squeeze the sheers and dig my nails into my palms as hard as I can stand until I feel blood. Letting go, I smooth the curtains back into place. No one will notice the few dark drops along the edge.
Detective Ramos’s parting comment was meant as a hypothetical threat, wondering what my neighbors would say if I was accused of murder. What he didn’t realize was I already know.
Just like her father.
Chapter 2
From the living room window, I see Ethan finally crossing the road. He hurries down the block with his Shop Small tote bag over his shoulder. I consider running to meet him at our gate and crying in his arms about Terrance being dead.
But it’s not that simple.
Then I realize I haven’t even checked my phone.
I head to where Ethan usually puts my phone in the charger if it’s been a late night. The screen is blank as I swipe, so it died.
Not letting myself dwell on that last word, I take my phone upstairs. I need the few extra minutes while Ethan puts the groceries away. Sitting cross-legged on the bed, I turn on my phone.