“And you know that I don’t do well with loose ends.”
“Aren’t all your unsolved true crimes loose ends?”
“Precisely,” she said. “That’s probably why I’m addicted. That’s definitely why I can’t let them go.”
28
Night Ten
Sybil
At least thenight was salvaged, Sybil thought, when she, Simone and Lani were doing the dishes. Julian and Zeke were on the couch with Zeke’s parents, Mark was upstairs in their bedroom, packing a suitcase since Sybil had told him she was planning on changing the locks tomorrow. Betty was at the table scowling at her phone, then abruptly stood up, still scowling, and started pacing. Sybil dried the serving plate, placed it back in the china cabinet, then moved to the dining room.
“You didn’t like dinner?” she said to Betty.
“What?” Betty dropped her phone, then flipped it over so the screen faced down. “Oh, oh no, it was wonderful. Thank you so much for including me. Really.”
“You just looked…unhappy.”
“Oh, that’s my face in general,” Betty said, though Sybil knew this wasn’t true.
“You’d tell me if something were wrong?”
“I would tell you if something were wrong,” Betty said. Theylocked eyes, and Sybil waited for her to pick up her phone, flip it over, but she didn’t. And Sybil was well aware that she had watched too many shows, listened to too many podcasts, but also, she felt certain that Betty didn’t want her to see what she had been reading or typing. Based on nothing.Nothing!Sybil reminded herself. She had no reason to be suspicious of Betty or think she was in trouble. She just, she told herself, needed someone to mother, and Betty was someone who needed to be mothered.
“Okay, well, here if you change your mind,” Sybil said, and retreated to the kitchen. She felt Betty’s gaze as she went, then pretended she’d forgotten something in the pantry and noticed Betty still staring, her phone still down, as if she was waiting to be sure that Sybil really was intending to leave her alone. Or maybe Sybil was just seeing what she wanted. Maybe Sybil was tired of the mundanity of this house, of washing the dishes, of making the green beans, of worrying about her children, of all of it. Maybe this whole thing, The Insomniacs, her crush on Zeke, her suspicious curiosity of Betty, was all just a midlife crisis of boredom.
She wandered to the back patio, where the late fall air smelled like damp leaves and woodburning stoves.
Eloise’s and Charlie’s heads were dipped together on a shared lounger by the far side of the pool, excavating the candy basket Julian had brought.
“Can I join you?” she asked, then pulled up a chair before they answered.
“Charlie ate all the gummy bears,” Eloise said, because those had always been Sybil’s favorites.
“I probably deserve that after I dropped a bombshell last night—about divorcing,” Sybil said. “And I’m sorry that your dad punched Zeke.”
“I wouldn’t say our first twenty-four hours at home have been uneventful,” Charlie said.
“I’m not sleeping with Zeke,” she said.
“I mean, obviously,” Eloise said.
Sybil winced.
“Mom, he’s Zeke Rodriguez,” Charlie said.
“Well, anyway. I’m also sorry that you had to come home to this. To Dad and me. I think…” She felt both of them staring at her, undivided attention, like they were toddlers again, and it was story time. And her heart so acutely seized, for how much she loved them, despite the simultaneous fact that their arrival upended everything. “I think that Dad and I were a good match for some things and a less good match for other things, and we did a really good job parenting you. But it shouldn’t have exploded at Thanksgiving.”
“If we’re saying truthful things, I should probably tell you that I went to the registrar and dropped premed,” Eloise said.
“Youwhat?” Sybil jumped to her feet.
“Oh shit, El,” Charlie said.
“You knew about this?” Sybil turned to Charlie.
“Well, yeah. But so did Dad.” He was unwrapping a Tootsie Roll and at least had the humility to stop and rest it in his lap while Sybil nearly detonated.
