The Things We Wish Were True Read online

  “I don’t think you’re going to have any trouble here now,” her mother said.

  “No, no, I don’t think so,” Jencey agreed.

  “I’m glad you came back here,” her mother added, her voice tentative, almost cautious. “I think it was time.” Jencey sensed her mother’s discomfort around her; she felt it, too. They were relearning each other, having become basically strangers in their years apart. They no longer knew how to be around each other, so their conversations were awkward, infused with a strange tension that Jencey hoped would go away with time.

  Her mother stood and began gathering the playing cards, still strewn about on the table. Jencey moved to help her, her hand falling on the ace of spades. Her mother rested her own hand on Jencey’s. There were age spots on the back of her mother’s hand that hadn’t been there when she’d left.

  They stood there for just a moment like that, not speaking, their eyes locked in what Jencey assumed was her mother’s version of a promise. She would keep her safe. They would be OK. All the things a parent tells a child. Jencey knew this because she was a parent now. She knew the urge to protect, and she also knew that even when you couldn’t protect your child, you would still vow that you would.

  LANCE

  Lance needed to find a babysitter or he was going to lose his job. He had to stop depending on that neighbor lady, Zell. She was like a fairy godmother, showing up just when he was about to explode, taking the kids to the pool so he could work for a few hours without interruption.

  He grabbed the bag that held the kids’ pool things—sunscreen and towels neatly rolled, a box of snack crackers, some change for the drink machine. He had not put this bag together; Zell had. He wondered if he could hire her to come over and create this same degree of organization in every aspect of his life. Maybe this was why Debra had liked her. Now that she was gone, he remembered how often Debra used to mention Zell, back when he didn’t pay attention because he took everything for granted. He’d barely listened to his wife then. He wasn’t sure what role Zell had played in Debra’s life, and of course, he couldn’t ask Debra now.

  “Lilah,” he called, “let’s go!” He wanted the kids gone. He wanted the house quiet. He’d promised himself he would not work today. He would take a true break. Watch sports—it didn’t matter which sport, anything on ESPN would do—drink beer, sit around in his boxers. He would not be Dad today. He would not hop up to solve anyone’s problems. He would sit for longer than a five-minute stretch. At lunch, he would make a big, messy hoagie sandwich and devour it on the couch. He would not use a plate. He would burp and fart and not have to apologize for it because he would be no one’s role model for a good couple of hours. He had fantasized about this time nearly as much as he used to fantasize about sex.

  Who was he kidding? He still fantasized about sex. When he wasn’t too damn tired to do so. But he did not fantasize about Debra. He couldn’t bring himself to do that. It just seemed wrong. The women he fantasized about now were always faceless.

  The kids materialized from wherever they’d been keeping themselves, their faces as drawn as if he were sending them off to do math problems all day. “You guys ready?” he asked, clapping his hands together, ignoring his children’s obvious displeasure.

  Lilah and Alec nodded glumly.

  “OK, well, Zell said to come on over whenever you were ready!” He opened the door, a blast of hot air hitting him in the face as he did. On the heels of the early spring came the unrelenting heat and humidity of summer, something he’d never gotten used to and would not mind leaving behind if he got the chance to return to Ohio, something he’d been discussing with his sister lately. She thought it would be a good idea, considering the circumstances, and he didn’t entirely disagree.

  “Have fun, guys!” he said, waving them in the direction of Zell’s house.

  Obediently they trotted out the door. As Lilah passed him, he looped the bag over her capable shoulders, ignoring the way they slumped forward. This had been awful for the kids, too. Their summer vacation had probably not felt like a vacation at all. He tried not to think too much about their feelings. Because what could he do about it? What could he change? Debra was gone, and he was holding things together without her. He was doing the best he could. It had become his mantra.

  He closed the door behind them and paused to take in the quiet house, inhaling the silence like a drug. He stood utterly still, just breathing. Usually when Zell took the kids, he increased his pace, scurried around doing laundry and dishes and paying bills and squeezing in work wherever he could. He worked when he should be eating, sleeping, showering. Taking this time for himself felt decadent, wasteful, as luxurious as that spa Debra had convinced him to go to with her years ago. It felt . . . selfish. But he wouldn’t think about that now. He would enjoy this.

  He watched from the kitchen door as Zell ushered Lilah and Alec into her car. He stayed just out of sight as the car’s engine whirred into motion and the lights came on. He stood frozen in place until the car—and his children—were gone, feeling guilt wash over him as he thought of Alec’s words upon hearing that it would be Zell—and not Lance—who would be taking them to the pool today. “You never have fun with us anymore, Dad.”

  He’d told his son to quit whining, and yet, the kid had a point. Lance never had fun anymore. Period. He cast a longing glance at the TV and at the fridge with the six-pack of beer inside, bought for just this occasion. Then with a sigh of surrender, he headed upstairs to change into his swim trunks.

  But he was taking the beer with him.

  BRYTE

  She held Christopher’s hand as she led him over to the pool, barely listening to his chatter about the ducks on the lake and the clouds in the sky. Instead, she tried to watch Jencey without appearing to. Jencey’s girls were playing with another girl, all three running from the girl’s brother whenever he came near them. Jencey, seemingly oblivious to their shrieks, was reading a People magazine on a chaise lounge.

  She helped Christopher into the pool and glanced longingly in her old friend’s direction, looking away too late when Jencey unexpectedly looked up from her magazine. Busted, she raised her hand in greeting as if she’d meant to catch Jencey’s eye the whole time. “I thought that was you!” she said, her voice too loud and excited. As kids, she’d always been the awkward one, the tagalong just trying to match her steps to Jencey’s. It was funny how lightning fast she could fall back into her old, awkward ways. She wished some of her friends were around—friends who only knew her now—but the overcast day had kept them away.

  Jencey returned her wave and went back to reading her magazine as Bryte, disappointed, focused on her son and took her designated seat on the hot concrete, the heat radiating through her swimsuit. She talked to Christopher, cheered his continued attempts to submerge his face underwater, and did her best not to look back over at Jencey, who, finished with her magazine, had closed her eyes and appeared to be sleeping.

  Bored, Bryte’s mind wandered to the e-mail she’d received that morning from her former boss, the one marked “Urgent,” asking her to come in for a meeting regarding her return to work. Minutes later, according to the time stamp, she’d received another e-mail from a coworker begging her to come back.

  The place isn’t the same without you! We miss you! We NEED you!

  While it was nice to be wanted, she wasn’t sure she wanted to go back there. She wasn’t sure she could get excited about selling technical training to Fortune 500 companies again. And yet, returning to work would stop the second-child discussion in its tracks, at least for a while.

  “Ouch!” Jencey said as her backside made contact with the hot concrete, jarring Bryte from her internal debate.

  Bryte gave her a welcoming smile, glad for the distraction. “Hi,” she said.

  “I’d tell you that I used to have to do this when mine were little, but I mostly had help with this part of motherhood,” Jencey said, gesturing to the shallow end and to Christopher donne
d in water wings.

  “You were lucky,” Bryte said, even though she didn’t really feel that way. Tiring as it was, she wanted to experience every moment with her only child. Because he would be their only child, if only she could figure out how to make Everett understand that. Using a return to work as an excuse to put the debate off was sounding even more appealing.

  “Mom, when can Lilah and I have a sleepover?” Jencey’s oldest ran over to ask, breathless from running. Her name was Pilar. The youngest was Zara. As girls, Jencey and Bryte had dreamed up baby names. Neither Pilar nor Zara had, so far as Bryte could recall, ever been on Jencey’s list. But then again, Christopher hadn’t been on Bryte’s.

  “We can talk about it later,” Jencey said, her voice kind and patient in front of Bryte.

  “But, Mom, Lilah wants to.” Pilar was relentless, which was expected, seeing as who her mother was. But Pilar didn’t look like Jencey. Bryte guessed she looked like the father, whose name, Bryte knew, was Archer, Arch for short. This name so suited the man who would marry Jencey that Bryte had laughed when she read it on the wedding announcement tacked to her parents’ refrigerator. Bryte had been certain the marriage meant Jencey would never return to Sycamore Glen. At the time, she’d been relieved at the thought. Yet here she was, sitting beside Jencey on the edge of the same pool where they’d played Marco Polo as children, Bryte feeling around blindly for Jencey as she listened for “Polo” in reply to her “Marco.”

  “I’m sure she does, and we will,” Jencey said, her voice firm, with an edge that hadn’t been there before. “But we’re not going to discuss it anymore today.”

  Pilar turned and, grumbling, marched back over to her friend. The two girls took their spots in line to jump off the diving board, waiting behind the little boy who made Bryte nervous. She’d taken to keeping an eye on him whenever she and Christopher were there. He wasn’t a strong swimmer, and there was never a parent with him. He had an older sister who usually looked out for him, but the sister seemed to be caught in Pilar and Zara’s orbit. Bryte remembered the feeling, how strong that pull could be.

  With Pilar gone, Jencey turned back to her. “Sorry about that,” she said.

  “No problem,” Bryte said. Christopher had grown tired of the pool and was hanging on her legs. She moved them up and down in the water, giving him a ride. It was the closest thing to exercise she got these days. If she went back to work, she could use her lunch hour to go to the gym like she used to.

  She and Jencey lapsed into silence again, both of them watching Christopher ride up and down in the water, his little face filled with a smile. “He’s really cute,” Jencey mused aloud. The comment felt weighted with unsaid words. This was not just Bryte’s son; this was Everett’s son, too.

  Would they ever talk about what had happened after Jencey left? Part of Bryte wanted to just say it already, get it all out in the open. But part of her didn’t want to broach the subject of Everett and her, because that would mean she’d have to talk about Jencey and Everett, which was not something she liked remembering, even years later.

  “He’s a good baby,” was all Bryte said in response.

  Jencey patted her arm and started to stand. “I hate to tell you this, but he’s hardly a baby anymore.”

  Bryte looked up. “You sound just like Everett,” she said, the name slipping from her lips without meaning for it to. There was no avoiding him. In the end, they’d have to acknowledge his existence. It was there between them, as obvious as the child hanging on her legs.

  “He’s right,” Jencey said, and shrugged. She turned her attention to Zara on the diving board and clapped her hands loudly. “Come on, Zara, let’s see a flip!” she called.

  Zara, from the diving board, tried to get her mother to be quiet. “Mo-om,” she intoned before making a polite, unobtrusive jump into the deep end. The little boy came after her, his eyes on his sister. But she wasn’t looking. She was helping Zara out of the water with effusive praise.

  “That kid makes me nervous,” Bryte said to Jencey. She pulled Christopher from the water and stood him beside her before standing up herself.

  “Why?” Jencey asked.

  Bryte took Christopher’s hand and pulled him closer to her side, as if by keeping him safe, she could vicariously keep the little boy safe, too. “Watch him,” she said, and pointed.

  The two women watched as the boy leaped from the diving board, sank under the water, and disappeared from sight for several seconds. Bryte held her breath, as did Jencey. She felt Jencey’s hand reach for her forearm. Her fingernails, painted the color pink a child might choose, dug into her skin as she strained forward. Together, they willed the boy to the surface. When he finally did rise, he was sputtering and coughing up water, his hands flailing. In unison, their eyes went to the male lifeguard, who was talking to the gorgeous blonde female lifeguard and not watching the scene in the deep end at all.

  “Should we do something?” Jencey asked.

  “No, look,” Bryte said, directing her attention to the struggling child, who had, once again, made it to the side. But his sister wasn’t there to help him out of the water this time.

  “My heart is going ninety miles an hour!” Jencey said, grabbing for her chest. “I need a drink after that!” She pretended to check her nonexistent watch. “Is it five yet?”

  The two laughed as Bryte led Christopher over to where her bag of tricks was. She had a juice box and animal crackers ready for him. She opened the box and took a handful for herself, then offered it to Jencey.

  “Oh, what the hell,” Jencey said, and reached into the box, taking a handful. Bryte wondered if the taste reminded her of her childhood.

  “You should come for dinner tonight,” Bryte said, her mouth still full of crackers. It was an impulse, but she didn’t regret saying it once it was out. She wanted to bring Jencey into her life, the one she had now. She wanted her to see how it had all turned out. And perhaps with a few drinks in her, Jencey would spill the details of what had brought her back. Bryte listened as her old friend accepted the invitation, made plans even as she tried not to think of what Everett would say.

  ZELL

  The sound of Zell’s name being called interrupted her attempt to eavesdrop on Jencey and Bryte’s conversation. She never learned. Guilty, she looked over to see Lance walking toward her. She was glad to see him even if she had been the one to encourage him to take a break from the children. Lord knew he needed it. Sometimes when she got up in the middle of the night to get some water after being awakened by one of her hot flashes, she saw his light on, knew he was burning the midnight oil as the kids slept. Without his wife, the man was running pillar to post.

  “I can’t believe you came up here!” she called out to him, her guilt complex mostly forgotten.

  He gave her a bashful smile. She saw the other mothers’ heads turning as they noticed a new man in their midst, a very nice-looking man. She was older than all of them, but she wasn’t blind.

  “Well, I felt bad,” he said. “I mean if I have time to goof off, I guess I should use that time to spend with the kids.”

  “I know they’ll be glad to see you.” She returned his smile and called out to the kids, “Lilah! Alec! Look who’s here!”

  Alec had spent the last hour following the head lifeguard around, peppering him with questions about the chemicals they put in the pool and begging to let him help take measurements of the samples they pulled from the water. Lilah had become thick as thieves with Jencey Cabot’s girls in the weeks since the pool’s opening, the three of them moving in a tight cluster. They’d picked up a stray today, that little girl who usually hovered on the edges looking anxious.

  Both kids broke away from what they were doing and scampered over to their father with big, grateful grins on their faces. “Daddy!” they said in unison, forgetting they were too cool to call him that. He hugged them both, and they told him what they were up to as Zell looked on proudly.

  “They’re having a goo
d time,” Zell said. It felt good to be part of something, but Lilah gave her a look that told her she’d gone too far. Sometimes when Lilah looked at her, she thought that the child knew the truth even though she couldn’t possibly. Zell saw the scar on Lilah’s pencil-thin leg, forever white against her tanned skin, and remembered the day the girl had gotten it. That had been the beginning.

  Lilah turned to Jencey’s girls to introduce them to her father. “These are my friends Pilar and Zara,” she said, waving her hands at them. The two girls giggled and waved, but the third girl—the one who’d been tagging along just today—stood silent and overlooked. Zell’s heart went out to her.

  “Nice to meet you,” Lance said, his tone formal as he shifted his weight and looked around the pool, perhaps wondering why he’d come, where he fit.

  “Will you throw me, Dad?” Alec asked, his voice husky and reserved in front of the girls.

  “Sure, buddy,” Lance said, looking relieved to have something to do. He glanced over at Zell. “Thanks,” he said to her, and then he let Alec lead him away. She tried to catch the other little girl’s eye, to give her a smile of encouragement. But she turned away too quickly, intent on following the other girls, her eyes focused on staying in step with them, her legs hurrying to keep up.

  JENCEY

  She hurried back to her chair, fuming internally over her stupid mistake. She straightened her towel and threw herself down. What was she thinking, saying yes to Bryte’s invitation? She’d been caught up in nostalgia, maybe, her resolve weakened by the heat. She had no business attempting a social engagement of any sort, much less a social engagement with her old best friend and her first love, now married to each other and living in the same neighborhood they’d all grown up in.

  She was in no shape to see Everett again, much less Everett flanked by his wife and son. She had enough on her plate without adding that stressor. Her therapist back in New Canaan would have had a fit. Of course, therapists were a luxury from the past. Ironic that now that she had real, actual problems, she could no longer afford one. Of course her parents would help pay for a therapist if she really needed one, but to ask for that was to admit she needed help both financially and mentally. She was loath to admit either.