Aimee feels her shoulders slump. She is losing him, again. “What are you charged with?”
“Felony obstruction of justice. But my lawyer says that’s just to get me back there, then they can charge me with something more serious. But he thinks I’ll be able to make a deal if I cooperate and testify against the man who shot Dex.”
“And you’re going to cooperate with the prosecutor?”
“I’m going to do everything I can to minimize the time I spend in prison,” Scott says. “That’s all I can say. I’m really not supposed to talk about the case. How are the kids? What have you told them?”
“Nothing yet. That you’re away on business. But I’m going to have to tell them the truth. Or something like it.”
“Listen, Aimee. I don’t expect you to stand by me. I really don’t—”
“I haven’t made any decisions.”
“I understand, but let me finish. What I did was terrible, but I want you to know that what you said to me the other day had a huge impact. I thought long and hard about my life. I’ve done some things that land in the good column. I’ve done some things that land in the bad. Which column is bigger? Where has most of my life’s energy gone? I’d like to think I’ve done more good than bad. Marrying you, being a father. Working on the software for diabetes.”
“Does your mom even have diabetes?” Aimee asks.
He smiles. “Yes. She does. Type one, autoimmune. Anyway, in the end, the question I asked myself is: Who am I? Am I someone who can be trusted? I like to think that I am. That I have become a good person—fair, kind, compassionate. A lot of that is you, Aimee.”
She looks away, feeling the tears coming. He has no right, she thinks, to be kind now.
“I was so blinded by fear when I saw my mom. It just pulled me right back to that night when she drove me to the Greyhound station, gave me cash for a ticket, and told me not to come back. I lived with that fear for a long time, and when she showed uphere, it was all reactivated.” He snapped his fingers. “I didn’t handle it well. I’m not trying to blame her. But she was frantic. Said her life was in danger, so was Ray’s. She told me I’d end up either dead or in prison if I didn’t leave. I panicked. I should have been honest with you from the beginning. But I never thought I deserved you. I thought if you knew the real me, you’d run.”
She turns back to him. “You never gave me that chance.”
“You’re right, and I’m sorry.”
“But when you had the chance to run again, you didn’t. You came back.”
“I hope that counts for something.”
“What about your mom?”
He shrugs. “She’s gone. I don’t know where. I wouldn’t be surprised if I never saw her again, to be honest. In the end, she was more concerned about what my coming back and testifying would mean for her and Ray than what it would do to my life.”
They talk until their allotted time is up. The goodbye embrace is longer, more difficult, because she doesn’t know when she might get to hug him again. But she won’t cry. She won’t make him worry about her. She’ll save her tears for later, even if she is overcome with grief. It doesn’t matter what he did, she realizes, she loves him and wants him in her life. She knows with certainty that, whatever it takes, she will fight to get him back.
“I love you,” she whispers in his ear.
“I love you more,” he whispers back.
The wind is whipping up the trash in the parking lot when she leaves. She sits in her car for a good ten minutes, allowing herself to cry. Last week she was a typical suburban mom, stressed about balancing work and parenting, worried that Noa might have ADHD. Those concerns seem so trivial compared to what she will face in the coming weeks—explaining all this to the kids, figuring out if she can afford to stay in Bethesda, navigating the criminal justice system from afar.
She gets back on the road and, without even realizing it, findsherself winding her way through downtown Bethesda, toward her home. It’s the last weekend in September, and a few overly excited neighbors have begun putting up Halloween decorations in their yards. Once news of what has happened on Nassau Court hits the media, she doubts she will ever feel comfortable trick-or-treating around here again. No, she thinks, as she pulls onto Nassau Court, they will have to move.
A news van is parked outside Lisa and Marcus’s house, but it doesn’t look like anyone’s home. She can’t blame Marcus if he left, another refugee from the chaos here. Aimee pulls up in front of her house, a plan formulating in her mind. It’s only one month into the school year. Maybe she should pull the kids out and move back home with her dad for a while. There’s room. She would save money. She gets out of the car. The plan is half-baked. She’ll talk to her dad and see what he thinks. But she knows she won’t be able to stay in this house.
After packing up a few suitcases and dragging them out to the truck, Aimee decides to see if Gwen is around. It seems doubtful. There is still yellow caution tape strung from the trees at the periphery of the property, although someone has cut it, leaving it to flap in the wind.
She knocks on the door and waits. No one answers, and she peers inside. Usually, Sababa comes rushing to the glass panel next to the door to see who’s there, but it is still inside.
“No one’s home.”
Aimee turns to see a young man wearing a suit and a caked-on tan.
“Austin Byrd.” He sticks out his hand. “Channel Five News.”
Aimee ignores the hand and starts to walk past him.
