Chương 4
By the time we arrived, it was almost ten.
She opened the door wearing pajama pants covered in cartoon avocados and a black T-shirt that said I READ BANNED BOOKS.
She hugged Emily before either of us got fully inside.
Then she looked at me over Emily’s shoulder.
“What exactly did your sister do?”
“Rachel,” Emily murmured.
“No, I need a scale.”
Emily let go of her.
“She threw it in the pool.”
“Like dropped it?”
“Threw.”
Rachel stared at me.
I nodded.
“Okay.”
She stepped aside.
“I have wine, frozen pizza, and a baseball bat.”
Despite everything, Emily laughed.
It lasted less than a second.
Rachel pointed at her.
“There she is.”
Emily’s face crumpled immediately afterward.
Rachel’s expression changed.
She pulled her close again.
I carried our bags into the living room and suddenly felt like an intruder.
Rachel had known Emily since college.
She had met Laura.
She had gone to the hospital during the last month and washed Emily’s laundry because nobody remembered to do it.
I had entered Emily’s life after the worst of that was over.
I knew the stories.
Rachel knew the rooms.
“Mike,” she said without looking at me, “there are sheets in the hall closet.”
It was not forgiveness, but it was permission to stay.
I made up the pullout couch while they sat at the kitchen counter.
Rachel poured wine for herself and Emily.
I opened a seltzer from the refrigerator because I still had work in the morning and because getting drunk while my wife cried about my family seemed like a particularly bad form of cowardice.
My phone buzzed six times in twenty minutes.
Mom.
Nathan.
Mom again.
Dad.
Then a message from Ashley.
You embarrassed me in front of everyone.
I read it twice.
I put the phone facedown.
Rachel noticed.
“Her?”
“Yes.”
“What did she say?”
“Nothing useful.”
“Good choice.”
Emily stared into her wine.
“Can we not talk about her for ten minutes?”
Rachel nodded immediately.
“Absolutely.”
She picked up her phone.
“Did you know the woman downstairs has a parrot that screams somebody named Derek is a liar?”
Emily blinked.
“What?”
“Every morning at seven-thirty.”
“That can’t be real.”
“I swear to God.”
A minute later, Rachel was showing us a shaky video of a green parrot on a balcony yelling, “Derek, you liar,” while a man in the parking lot shouted, “I don’t even know Derek.”
Emily laughed again.
This time it lasted longer.
I watched her press one hand over her mouth.
A strange relief moved through me, followed immediately by guilt for feeling relieved.
Nobody fixed anything that night.
We ate frozen pizza.
Rachel complained that her upstairs neighbor vacuumed at midnight.
Emily fell asleep before eleven-thirty with her head against the arm of the couch.
I covered her with a blanket and sat on the floor beside her because there was nowhere else to sit without waking her.
At 12:07, Dad texted me.
Your mother is upset.
I typed, Emily is upset too.
I deleted it.
Then I typed, I’ll call tomorrow.
Before I sent it, another message appeared.
Ashley left.
I sat up.
Where?
Don’t know.
I called him.
He answered on the second ring.
“She took her car.”
“Did someone go after her?”
“Nathan did.”
“Why did she leave?”
“What do you think?”
I closed my eyes.
From the kitchen, Rachel’s refrigerator kicked on with a low hum.
Dad sighed into the phone.
“She thinks everybody turned on her.”
“She threw a wedding dress in a pool.”
“I know what she did.”
“Do you?”
There was a pause.
“That’s not fair.”
“No, Dad, what isn’t fair is making Emily spend tonight on somebody’s pullout couch because Ashley wanted a laugh.”
His voice hardened.
“I’m not defending her.”
“You’ve been defending her for years.”
“That’s easy to say now.”
It was.
That bothered me because it was true.
I had participated in the same system I was suddenly condemning.
“I did it too,” I said.
Dad went quiet.
“I laughed at her.”
“At Ashley?”
“At Emily.”
Another silence.
“At the flower thing.”
“Oh.”
“I told Emily not to take it personally.”
Dad exhaled.
“That’s what we always say.”
“I know.”
Neither of us had anything to do with that admission.
Dad finally said, “Nathan found her.”
“Where?”
“Gas station on Route 23.”
“Is she coming home?”
“He’s talking to her.”
I looked at Emily sleeping beneath Rachel’s old quilt.
“I’m not coming back tonight.”
“I didn’t ask you to.”
“Mom might.”
“She won’t.”
I almost asked why.
Then I heard Mom crying somewhere near him.
“She thinks you hate us,” Dad said.
“I don’t hate anyone.”
“Feels pretty close from here.”
“Imagine how it felt from the pool.”
Dad said my name sharply.
I regretted the line as soon as it left me.
It was too neat.
Too cruel.
The kind of sentence Ashley would have admired.
“I shouldn’t have said that.”
“No.”
“I’m angry.”
“So am I.”
“At me?”
“At everybody.”
We sat silently on opposite ends of the call.
Then Dad said, “Call the cleaner first thing.”
“I know a guy at work whose daughter got married last year.”
“Dad.”
“I’m just saying he might know someplace.”
“Okay.”
That was how my father apologized.
By finding phone numbers.
At eight the next morning, the bridal shop called.
I stepped into Rachel’s hallway so I would not wake Emily.
A woman named Melissa listened while I explained what happened.
When I finished, she was silent for a moment.
“Was the pool chlorinated?”
“Yes.”
“And how long was the gown submerged?”
“Maybe two minutes.”
“Did anybody rinse it?”
“No.”
“Good.”
It was the first good thing anyone had said about the dress.
Melissa asked me to bring it in as soon as possible.
Their alterations manager knew a textile conservator who sometimes handled gowns after water damage.
She warned me not to assume the worst.
May you like
She also warned me not to assume the best.
At nine-thirty, Emily and I returned to my parents’ house.
