He motioned for her to lower her voice. “I know about her studio.” Now it was his turn to look around, conscious, it seemed, of not saying too much. “That’s part of how I ended up here. You know—my pants?” He raised his eyebrows.
“What the hell do the pants have to do with me?”
“Come on. I found the paint. The damage to Frankie’s studio? Iknowit was you.”
“Richard, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“We can leave it,” Richard said. “We should leave it while we’re in this place. I’m just saying: You and I both know there’s more to this situation.”
“No, Richard, I donotknow. I have no idea what you’re talking about.” She glared at him.
They were quiet for a long moment.
“How bad is this situation, Richard?” Gretchen asked finally.
Richard gestured to the Rikers visiting room. “I mean, I’d say the situation is not great.”
She wasn’t going to let him wriggle away like that. This wasn’t a game. She leaned in and lowered her voice.
“Just yes or no.” She was asking whether he’d done it, without saying the words. “I am here. And I will agree to stay here, for the sake of our children, for the duration of this situation.Providedyou tell me the truth right now. If I find something out later, I will leave. I mean it. Even if it hurts your case. Maybe I will even leave in such a way as to be sure it does.”
Richard’s face moved through anger to sadness, then settled on resignation. And in the silence, it was impossible for Gretchen to breathe.
“I did not kill Frankie,” Richard said. And there was a look on his face, aknowinglook—that was the word that came to mind. “Did I have a crush? Maybe. Did I cross a line with her? I think you would probably feel I did. I’m not proud of that. And I am sorry, truly. I’m going to make it up to you if I get that chance. But, in this situation, I’d say there’s been a fair amount of bad judgment to go around.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Gretchen noticed she was gripping the sides of her chair. She forced herself to let go.
Richard shrugged. “It means even the most perfect people can let their anger get the best of them, Gretchen. Even you.”
I followed them for the whole loop—into the park and back. They stopped there and talked for a while with long faces. Like maybe they were even talking about how she was upset, unhappy. How she wanted to change things, finally.
Because that’s the thing: I know there are problems. I know all about it. And I understand. I know her in a way no one else can. Some people are just connected that way. They don’t even need to talk about it.
Later, I followed him sneaking out to seeher. Together like it’s nothing. It’s not right. Not at all. For her. For me. It’s cruelty all around. And to what end? Why not just come clean and let everyone finally be happy?
And so that’s what I’ve decided. To make sure everyone tells the truth. I owe it to her. I owe it to myself. She feels the same way. I know it. The way I know my own thoughts.
Things for me aren’t great right now. But what’s that saying: Things are always darkest before the dawn.
And she’s the key to turning on the lights.
Before
Frankie
September 10
Richard’s apartment building is stunning in that old-world, Upper East Side way—intimidating, too. As the Uber Richard sent pulls away, I stand on the sidewalk, self-conscious about my bare feet and pajamas. I look down at myself, at the mess I’m in. The mess I am.
We never should have spoken after we came back home.
***
I woke up in my tent, headlamp on, halfway in my sleeping bag, still wearing all my layers, including my parka. What the hell? Then, slowly, it all came back: Van, the rock, the way he cried out. Just the one time. Then the silence. That fucking awful silence.
For hours we’d held out hope that somehow he would survive.
While we waited for word, Bakari found a bottle of whiskey secreted at another campsite and proffered it as we sat dazed in the dining tent. He told us to be careful—drinking at altitude was risky. But the waiting was too excruciating to face clear-headed.
