I didn’t mind having this ghost hovering over our relationship, because I had one too, though I never told Vince about Milo. Since the Boston Marathon in 2013, he had appeared in my waking thoughts and middle-of-the-night dreams even more regularly. Why had he been determined to serve a full sentence rather than admit the truth? It bugged me that he was trying to be some martyr-like figure, all the time Margie was sending me letters and making sleazy insinuations about what I was doing in New York, not to mention trying to have my dad’s church burned down. I hated that he had turned into such a manipulator, but as desperate as he had seemed in prison, the wound in my heart had reopened in some undefined way.
I’d expected to hear from him and was scared that he would turn up one day. I kept my distance from Fenway Park where I knew he might be likely to go see a Red Sox game. I’d put out some feelers through my friends. They said he was back working in Billy’s Diner. I discovered that he too was keeping tabs on me when a letter from him landed in my office in 2016.
Dear Erin,
I know that you won’t welcome this letter, but I’ve been out for three years, and I need you to know that you’re still the most beautiful girl I ever saw and the only one I ever wanted. I hope that guy you married knows how lucky he is. I won’t bother you again. Margie says my broken heart will mend one day. I’m not sure I believe her, but I got to make a life for myself though I don’t know how I’m going to do that without you. You will be a great wife and an awesome mother, but you can’t use the names we picked for our kids, okay? Though I don’t imagine you will.
I appreciated those monthly parcels when I was inside. I got to tell you, they were a godsend and sometimes they saved me from trouble. Thank you very much.
I don’t know what to say about Ruby. When you came to the prison that time and told me she was an alcoholic, I wasn’t too surprised and I’m not sorry for her, but if she has to live with a lie her whole life, even now when she’s a grown-ass woman, there are consequences to that. I’m not taking responsibility for it. My mom drowned herself because of Ruby’s lies and maybe that’s why I can’t see myself forgiving her any time soon, or ever. I served my whole sentence because I wouldn’t tell a lie. I thought you knew me better, and that’s what hurts the most.
By the way, Margie did not send you any emails or letters and I can hardly believe you would think she’d set fire to a church, but then Ithink of what you believe about me and I’m just not sure any more.
I read all about you in the Globe. They said you were publishing books. I’ve read them all, even the kids’ ones, and you sure know what readers want, but I meant what I said about your stories, Eri. They were better than anything you’ve published. Please don’t waste your talent.
M x
A day later, I got a text from the burner phone I had logged as Margie. There were photos of naked women in crude poses with my head superimposed on them. They looked real. I was totally freaked out. The text read:
I’ve uploaded these on to some Boston escort sites. Expect some calls.
The calls came and within two days I had to change my number, which was hugely inconvenient for business. The calls and photos I received were disgusting and depraved. I had to report this to Hernandez. She was as helpful as she could be. They were able to find my doctored image on three escort sites. I had to obtain a court order to get them taken down and it had to be done fast, as my reputation was on the line, though anyone who knew me knew that I was not shaped like any of these women, with their enormous butts and plus-sized breasts. Hernandez talked to Margie, seized her laptop again and came up empty. No evidence. I got another screaming voicemail from Margie on her regular number, begging me to leave her alone. I handled all of this on my own. I did not respond to Margie; I did not tell Dad or Vince.
When was this going to stop?
44
Vince and I celebrated our marriage in June 2016 in the TD Garden, home to the Boston Bruins ice hockey team. Mom and Dad raised their eyebrows at that, but they still came along and enjoyed the day. The venue meant a lot to Vince, and I had developed an interest in the game too, even though, traditionally, the Coopers were a baseball family. Well, Dad was a baseball fan. Sport was always a big thing in Boston. You would have families who were into ice hockey, baseball (the Red Sox), basketball (the Celtics) or football (the New England Patriots, featuring national treasure Tom Brady), or you could get a family who were into all four. Dad had been unable to persuade his wife or daughters to take much interest in his game, but he and Milo could talk about the Red Sox for hours, back before ‘the incident’, as Ruby always called it.
Ruby did not come to the wedding, but I knew she wouldn’t. This time the excuse was that she was running the acting school for the husband I’d never met while he took a job on some series that was shooting in Norway. Ruby had made excuses not to come home every year since she touched down in Ireland. I knew she went on vacations to Italy, France and Spain, and had honeymooned in Orlando, but she avoided Boston. I guessed that some part of her was still afraid, but I was disappointed she wouldn’t make the effort for me. It was years since I’d seen her. We had become estranged without ever having an argument.
My wedding was the first time Mom met Kathy too and thatwas always going to be awkward. Mom was surprised: ‘My God, Erin, she looks cheap – her hair is nearly bleached off her head.’ And, yes, Kathy had made herself some kind of Little Bo Peep-style dress with layers of lace in different pastel shades for the wedding, while Mom was demurely dressed in an olive-green linen sheath dress. Both of Dad’s wives were beautiful, but Mom had style. I felt sorry for Kathy. She was intimidated by Mom, but Mom stayed in a hotel, and they were civil to each other at the ceremony and reception.
The ceremony took place in Dad’s church. That was our compromise. Vince agreed to a non-Catholic ceremony if I agreed to an ice hockey venue for the reception. We were good at compromising. I still attended Dad’s church and had a lot of friends there from childhood. It was a big wedding with all our friends and colleagues, though this made the age difference more apparent as a lot of Vince’s friends were of a similar vintage to my parents. And some of my younger authors flirted with Vince’s boys.
I did not take my husband’s surname. It was never an issue. I was not prepared to be Mrs Delgado when I had worked hard to become Erin Cooper, Publisher. I think Dad was more disappointed than Vince.
I wore a simple but eye-wateringly expensive Vera Wang sleeveless ivory dress with a train, and Saima, my bridesmaid, looked stunning in powder-blue satin against her dark skin. Vince’s single, married and divorced male friends flocked around my mother as if she was Scarlett O’Hara at a cotillion ball, and she relished the attention, but did not succumb to any offers, as far as I know. I had an awesome day, surrounded by people who loved me. When I reflect now, I realize that despite my vows and my efforts, I did not love Vince at all, though he was dear to me, and I was happy to be his wife. It was cruel of me. I should have let him go and find somebody more deserving of his love than me, but I was lonely, and I thought that Vince could protect me.
45
Since Ruby had failed to invite me to her wedding, and then made excuses not to come to mine, we grew even further apart. She had married her housemate, Jack, in 2010. None of us were invited to the wedding, not even Mom. I’d met Jack once at Grandma’s funeral but only briefly. I knew he was an actor and a so-far sober alcoholic. I thought it was a terrible idea. Mom had been upset not to be invited to the wedding, but she reckoned Jack was okay. He was nine years older than Ruby. Maybe Ruby and I were both looking for the same thing, marrying older men. Jack also ran a drama school and gave Ruby work there. He had been with her when she went into labour with Lucy but apparently was not the father. I guess they knew each other well.
Our phone calls grew more and more sporadic. I would hear what she was up to through Mom, and she had a few theatre acting jobs here and there for which she got good reviews. Then, in later years, I saw Jack on TV. He was more handsome and rugged than I remembered. And even though he was just ten years younger than Vince, he looked a different generation. My husband wore pressed shirts and suits to work. He had a small paunch which he managed to keep small through a very strict diet. Vince’s casual clothing was an open-necked shirt and a sweater over some chinos. Jack wore designer jeans and T-shirts or hoodies with leather jackets. He clearly spent time in the gym. I don’t know why I was comparing my husband to Ruby’s. I was not exactly the svelte young thing I had been either. I’d let myselfgo a little. A few extra pounds and some grey hair that I didn’t bother to hide.
Jack appeared in several films and we went to see him in the movie theatre. I read interviews with him, where he often mentioned Ruby as his inspiration. He always referred to Lucy as his daughter too. Who knows what the truth was? Vince and his sons were star-struck that my sister was married to a movie star. But she never invited us to meet him. I wished her well but had to accept that she didn’t want me in her life any more. Eventually, I gave up the pretence and stopped the birthday and Christmas cards that were never reciprocated.
Somehow, Margie got hold of my new cellphone number and the texts started again.
He could have been a doctor by now if it wasn’t for your bitch sister.
The tone of these communications was always erratic, from disgusting comments to professional sabotage, from threats of church arson to apology, back to sexual harassment and then hostile regret. Margie was clearly unhinged. I had a constant fear of what the next one would say or threaten, and yet sometimes months went by when there were none. I was forever on my guard. It was exhausting.
46
We were nearly eighteen months married before Vince found out about Milo. We had settled into married life easily and Vince and I bought a new house in Beacon Hill, a fresh start. I hadn’t wanted to live in Anjelica’s shadow. He still talked about her, but less frequently. I had insisted, after the first year of our relationship, that we take vacations to places that Vince had not been with her. We went to the West Coast a lot to see Vince’s boys. Carmine got a job in Cupertino, something to do with tech and Microsoft. I never understood exactly what the job was, but he was well paid and got great benefits. Nick, on the other hand, was struggling. The boys had grown apart since their college years. Nick’s girlfriend had dumped him, and he did not take it well. She told Carmine that she was worried about him, that he had started talking about conspiracy theories. He believed in chemtrails, the theory that trails in the sky left by aeroplanes were leaking poison into the atmosphere and brainwashing the population. He stayed in his rental studio most of the time and had sealed the windows shut. Despite his fear of inhaling chemicals, he chain-smoked in that room until his landlord threw him out after an inspection revealed he was a hoarder and was living in total squalor. The neighbours had complained. Vince paid for him to come back to Boston.
When he returned, he was upset that we had sold the family home, though we’d told him at the time, and he had visited with us before in the new house. He acted like it was all newinformation, something that had been orchestrated behind his back to erase his mother’s memory. He also wanted to know why I hadn’t had babies yet. Childbirth was a woman’s purpose, he said. He didn’t like the fact that I worked and said that I should be more like his mom and stay home raising children. He would get angry and sometimes aggressive about these issues. He had latched on to the theory that the moon landings were faked and that humans could not have built the pyramids. He believed that Tupac was still alive and running a motel somewhere in Brazil.
