The intensity of his stare makes my cheeks burn with shame. I do hear how it sounds. Claire’s words drum in my head,Trust your instincts, urging me to stay strong. “You’re sure she doesn’t look familiar to you?”
Gabe rubs at the stubble that’s grown in a day, lips pursed in thought. I hold my breath, willing him to sayYou know what, maybe we did see her the other day. Claire mentioned spotting her in the neighborhood. If Gabe and Jasper crossed paths with her, if they played chicken as he angled Jasper’s stroller around her and Jasp reached out to her ... If they spoke for a few moments, if it was that recently, then it would explain why my son recognized her at Café Collage. If Gabe could say yes, then this could all be a random coincidence.
“No.” He picks up his fork, stabs at a piece of cauliflower. “Not at all. Can we please let this go?”
He stares at me, waiting for me to comply.
“T.” Gabe’s face softens. “Please.”
He’s right. I should let this go. I’ve told the police what I know. It didn’t arouse suspicion. I’ve spoken with the bartender who served Regina, and serve she did. Everything points to a tragic accident.
I offer a nod in agreement. He resumes eating, trusting that this is the last time he’ll hear about the woman who drowned outside our house. I push the food around my plate, unable to take a bite, that allergies-and-bubbly-water sensation potent, its effervescence pinging my limbs, insisting that none of this is right.
The next morning, Jasper and I head to the park, resuming our regular morning routine. I command myself to move on, like I promised my husband I would. The unease lurks in me like a morning sickness I haven’t felt in months.
The other mothers are huddled, whispering. The sight of them offers a perverse relief. My friends are still worried too. It isn’t just me.
“Tessa.” Claire waves me over. Freed from his stroller, Jasper takes off, and I head toward my friends, debating what I’ll tell them about the police, the Brig, Barb, how much I’d want to know if I were in their position. While it wasn’t their child who recognized Regina, it easily could have been.
“Did you hear it too?” Claire asks. I’m struck by a dread that borders on jealousy. Do they know something about Regina that I don’t?
“Hear what?”
“That incessant jackhammering at like five this morning,” Claire says.
Ines pinches the bridge of her nose. “It gave me such a headache.”
“Horrible.” Erin places both hands on her temples. “It’s those people on Howland. The ones who bought two lots?” Oh, I know about those people on Howland who bought two lots. My friends talk about them whenever there’s nothing more salacious to discuss, complaining of how their compound will ruin the vibe of the canals.
“It’s like they’re begging their neighbors to find some sort of violation to report.” Ines’s tone intimates she’s already researched it.
“Where’s Judy when you need her?” Claire teases. “What’s wrong?”
It takes me a moment to understand that this question is aimed in my direction, that they’re all staring at me, equal parts curious and worried. Apparently I’m not hiding my feelings very well—my shock that this is what they’re talking about two days after Regina’s corpse was found in our canal.
“I took Jasp to the police yesterday.” I glance over at my son, who’s marveling at Javier as he pushes Summer down to get to the slide. Although he can tantrum with the best of them, Jasper isn’t aggressive. He never pushes. Never bites. I’d like to think this is something Gabe and I have instilled in him, but it’s just who he is. My sweet, gentle boy.
“Javier Luis, I know you did not use your hands.” Ines storms toward the play structure, and I see a glimpse of the studio exec she once was, her commanding powers now relegated to the playground.
“Oh, right,” Claire says, her attention focused on Ines, who has plopped her son beneath the magnolia tree, where he wails as she tries to reason with him. “How’d it go?”
Her lack of interest confuses me. What happened toTrust your instincts? ToYou need to tell the police?
“They added it to the file.”
“Well, good.” She grabs my shoulders, giving them a loving shake. “Now you can let it go.”
I gape at her, lips parted, tongue slack. First Gabe, now Claire. The more insistent everyone is that Ilet it go, the more it feels like there’s something to hold on to, something that’s still taking shape.
Ines returns to our circle, clearly dismayed. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled. I don’t know how to get through to him.”
“Don’t do that. Don’t apologize,” Claire chides. “There’s nothing wrong with being firm.”
“You were holding a boundary,” Erin agrees. Ines nods, not quite believing her.
On the playground, Javier is already mounting the stairs of the play set again, ready to wreak havoc, his mother’s reprimand quickly forgotten.
My phone buzzes in my back pocket. My chest flutters when I read her name.
