A Lie for a Lie Read online

  We heard them before we saw them. Doug’s low mumble and Jenn’s whispery voice rose from behind the bushes.

  “Jenn,” I said, breaking into a laugh. “I’m leaving. Can you get a ride from Doug?” I asked. They stopped and Doug mumbled something.

  Giggles from them. “Um, yeah, I think so,” she said.

  We turned back, walking faster than before.

  “So awkward,” I said.

  “Yeah,” Will agreed.

  He put his arm around me. “Remember when you said you liked me?”

  “Last night,” I said, thinking about the way it had popped out.

  “I like you, too. You’re great. Really great.” He stopped walking and swung me around to face him. We were between the dunes and the fire circle, and no one else was around. My body knew what he was going to do even before he moved in for a kiss. My knees wanted to give out, and I tingled all over. I tilted my head to meet his lips. The kiss was sweet and soft. Then I pulled away and we looked at each other in the dark. He kissed me again, and this time I ran my hands over his back and arms and through his hair.

  I can feel myself going under, I can drown in his kisses, I thought, but this is where I want to be and it’s safe. We let go of each other, and he squeezed me one more time before we headed back. I pushed Nicole out of my mind and settled into his shoulder as we walked, our strides matching perfectly. I pictured us walking around campus in the fall, fooling around on the hill at lunchtime, and giving each other quick kisses in the hall.

  When we got back to the fire, he tugged my ponytail. Then he was gone in the crowd, and I walked back on the causeway alone, not once thinking about the incoming tide.

  CHAPTER 6

  I woke to the smell of coffee and waffles and the sound of lazy summer morning chatter from downstairs. Thoughts of Will and our kiss filled my head until I remembered that Dad was cheating on Mom. I rolled over and tried to think only of Will, but I heard Dad downstairs, saying something about a meeting in Portland.

  There was no meeting, but there was a nine o’clock game he was not supposed to forget, according to his text message.

  I jumped out of bed and listened from the top of the stairs.

  “Can you cut out early and meet me at the club?” Mom asked.

  “Possibly. I’ll call you when I’m done,” Dad said.

  I went into the kitchen and helped myself to coffee. Mom was pouring batter onto the waffle iron, and Dad was at the table.

  “Hey,” I said, adding some milk to my mug.

  Mom stopped what she was doing. “Kendra, you were a little late last night.”

  “Colette, she’s seventeen. Give her some breathing room.”

  I got a plate and sat down. “Mom’s right. I was a little late.” I let a beat pass. “But that’s because I got sidetracked talking with Will Beckham.” I smiled at Mom.

  She loved Will. She loved Will’s parents. She opened the waffle iron and forked the golden square onto Dad’s plate.

  “God, Mom, he’s so cute,” I said. “I can hardly talk when I’m near him. It’s pathetic.” They both laughed at me, but in a nice way.

  Dad pushed his plate toward me, indicating I could have the waffle. I tore it in half and doused it with syrup. Mom was an awesome cook. Her food didn’t just taste good. She could create something out of nothing and make it look good, too.

  “Mom’s the best, isn’t she?” I said quietly. I looked at Dad and put a big bite of waffle in my mouth.

  He tilted his head like I was speaking another language. “Yes, you’re right,” he said. Then he sipped his coffee. “And she’s one hell of a cook, too.” He raised his mug, and Mom did a little dance around the kitchen as she collected bowls and utensils from the counter. “You can have the next waffle,” he told me. “I’ve had quite a few, and I’m meeting a potential client.” He ran the last bite of waffle through the syrup and popped it into his mouth as he was getting up.

  “Client?” I asked, remembering the text messages. It was a flat-out lie. “Hey, why don’t I go with you? I want to do some shopping.”

  “Not today, Kennie. This could be a big case.”

  “I’d shop and then we could have lunch together.”

  He stood up and collected his dishes. He seemed to be considering the idea.

  “Okay, two o’clock at the marina.” He took the stairs two at a time. From the top he called down, “Separate cars.” Into the bathroom, door shut, shower on.

  Marina? I didn’t like going back to the marina, and he knew this.

  Mom clanged the pots and pans into the dishwasher.

  “I’ll finish, Mom.”

  She gave me a hard look. “Is everything okay?”

  I nodded, even though my mind was racing with what I should tell her. “I just wish…” I couldn’t finish.

  Mom kept moving, filling the dishwasher with dishes and adding the soap. With a sigh, she flipped it on and went upstairs.

  I left a note telling her I was going to the beach before my lunch date with Dad. Instead, I parked up the road, and when he headed out, I followed, allowing lots of cars between us.

  The game at nine was sure to be snapshot-worthy.

  * * *

  We were on the turnpike, headed north. For fifteen minutes I kept watch, until he put his blinker on for exit 7. At that point I let him leave my sight. He was cutting it close, so the game was probably at Hadlock Field, just off the exit.

  I took exit 7, too, and came down the ramp in time to see him turn left, away from Hadlock Field, away from the office.

  Just two days before, I’d seen my father with another woman, drinking beer and wearing a Hawaiian shirt. What if I’d decided to skip the second set of the band, or if Jenn and I had gotten more ice cream and watched the folk trio on the other stage? Would I ever have known?

  It didn’t matter. It took me focusing through my zoom lens to convince me that my dad was cheating on my mom. Now my focus can help me find out the details, like who she is, and how often he sees her, and why Dad would do this to us.

  I drove along Commercial Street until I came to the bottom of Post Road. I could see Dad’s black Saab parked in front of the brownstone. After I parked my car on a side street, I got out and hid behind a pickup truck and waited for him to show up. I pictured him inside, down on his knees, begging the woman to let him go, breaking up with her so he could start over with Mom. It’s not that crazy a thought. It’s possible that he saw Jenn and me at the festival and he knows he has to end it.

  My phone rang in my pocket. Jenn.

  “Hey,” I said.

  “Don’t be mad at me,” she said.

  “Well, it was kind of crappy of you to take off like that. You know I’m scared shitless of water.” I could hear her sighing. She was probably sick of me and my anxieties.

  “Sorry, Kennie.”

  “Whatever. Will came just in time. We kissed!”

  “Omigod, Kendra! It’s happening—Breakout Summer!”

  “I know, I know! How’d it go with Doug?”

  “Mission accomplished.”

  “Really?”

  Another sigh, but this time it was a satisfied sigh. “Oh yeah.”

  “Are you guys a thing now?”

  “He’s taking me to a jazz festival this afternoon.”

  I laughed. “You hate jazz, Jenn.”

  “But I love Doug.”

  “He’s old.”

  “He’s twenty-whatever and he’s so—”

  The door opened across the street. “I’m watching Dad. I’ll call you back.” I closed the phone and watched him and a girl of nine or ten walk down the steps. She was wearing a soccer uniform with Longfellow and the number 15 on the front. She threw a duffel bag into the back of the Saab and hopped in the front beside Dad. So this was his nine o’clock game. The girlfriend had a kid.

  I stayed hidden until they were down the street, and then I craned my neck to see which way they turned. The door opened again. This time the
woman came out, carrying two telescope chairs. She got into a blue minivan and went in the same direction as Dad.

  When they were out of sight, I ran to my car and drove to Longfellow Elementary School. The trick would be to see them without being seen. The school parking lot was filled with minivans and SUVs. After locating Dad’s car and the blue minivan, I parked as far away as I could while still staying in the lot.

  The other team was from Belfast, and I went to their side of the field. I got settled and, using my zoom, scanned the Longfellow side. Soon I located Dad and his girlfriend walking hand in hand. It was obvious that he was trying to impress her by going to her kid’s game. They set up matching blue telescope chairs on the sideline. She leaned toward him, and he rubbed her arm like she was cold or something. Mom and Dad were never cozy in public.

  I called Jenn. This was too much to witness alone.

  “You’ll never guess where I am right now,” I said when she picked up.

  “You’re with Will, I hope.” I could hear Doug talking in his intense way to someone else.

  “I wish. I’m at a soccer game in Portland, watching Dad and that woman hold hands. She has a kid playing.”

  Jenn didn’t say a word, but I could hear Doug talking about how foreign cars are always superior to American ones.

  Putting the camera to my eye, I added, “I have more pictures of them to show you.”

  There was a long wait while she said something to Doug. Finally, she asked, “Did you follow them there?”

  “Yeah. At breakfast he said he had to meet a client, but I knew he was lying, because of the text. Remember? Game at nine?”

  “Jesus, Kendra, that’s over the top.”

  I felt my energy drain. “Come on, wouldn’t you have done the same thing?”

  “No. And you need to leave and forget about it.”

  “I will. I didn’t have anything else to do today.”

  “Promise?”

  I told her I would, and hung up. But instead of leaving, I studied Dad through the zoom. He seemed different than he was at home. Younger. They looked at each other a lot and laughed when they talked. The other thing that was different was the way he sat. He leaned forward, as though he was eager and interested in the game. At home he sat back with his ankle across his knee, a drink in his hand. He had his predictable routines: Kingsport Café on the way to work, cocktails at night, sailing on Sunday. They were routines I could count on.

  Number 15’s team was winning. She was good. Real good. Her coach yelled her name—Jilly—and she scored two goals. The woman was recording the game with her phone, and Dad cheered so loudly that I was embarrassed for him. The lady next to me swore.

  “Damn, that Jilly’s good. We’ve got to come back here and play them again next Sunday.”

  “Oh?” I said, raising my camera to my eye.

  “Do you know someone in the game?” she asked.

  “Me?” I said, and laughed. “No, I’m meeting someone,” I lied.

  “See number eight? That’s my Lana. She’ll get the ball. Watch her!” The crowd stood. “Go, Lana!” the mom screamed. On the other side, Dad and the other woman jumped up as Jilly dribbled toward the goal. I watched through my camera as she did a lightning-fast turn away with the ball, as quick and sure as a dancer. I focused in as she barreled past the stopper to make an unassisted goal. Click. I got it on film. I looked over at Dad and the woman. They were still cheering. I walked away, ashamed and hurt, my throat tightening with each heartbeat.

  Dad was happy.

  * * *

  I had three hours to kill before lunch with Dad, so I texted Jenn and we agreed to meet in the Old Port at a favorite outside café.

  While I waited, I kept thinking about Dad at the game, arms raised and cheering, but I could hardly believe it was him. What was it he’d said? “This could be a big case”? Poor Mom. She’ll find out eventually, even if I don’t tell her.

  I ordered an iced coffee and looked through the snapshots on my camera. Starting from the first shot, the one at the festival, I spun through them, feeling more right and more justified about telling Mom with every shot, especially the photo of my dad and the woman kissing in front of the brownstone. It was the hardest shot to revisit, and I was filled with anger. How dare he! I kept clicking through the photos. Lie after lie after lie.

  I wanted to call Mom and tell her everything; I wanted to bust him and watch his world crumble, but what would that accomplish? She would join me in the pain and destruction, and the feeling of betrayal.

  And after that there would be two Christmases, two birthdays, two houses, and three broken lives.

  I calmed myself by raising the camera to my eye and snapping random shots, focusing on tourists and dogs and bikes, and then Jenn came into view as she made her way toward the café. She and Doug were holding hands and laughing. He pecked her on her nose and she gave his a tweak. They were like a commercial for soda or suntan lotion, and I snapped a few shots of them. I was happy for her, but jealous.

  Doug veered off on his own, and Jenn plopped down opposite me, all smiles and glowing.

  “Hey, you,” I said.

  “Hey back,” she said, taking a sip of my iced coffee.

  “Check these out.” I handed her my camera.

  She clicked through the photos, smiling and cooing at the ones of her and Doug. Then she sighed loudly when she got to the soccer pictures, and set down the camera.

  “I’m meeting Dad at the marina for lunch at two o’clock. I wonder what he’s going to say when I ask him how his meeting went. I mean, look at him. That’s his supposed meeting. A kid’s game with the same woman.”

  “Skipper,” she said. “So I wonder what her kid’s name is.” She handed me back the camera.

  “Jilly. Her name is Jilly, and she’s an amazing soccer player.”

  She grabbed my hand and gave me a hard look. “You need to quit this, Kendra.”

  I took a sip of coffee, confused by her mature tone. “He’s cheating on Mom,” I said.

  “That’s true, but what you’re doing is bordering on—” She didn’t finish. She just shook her head. “Let it go.”

  “I told you; I’ll stop.” I knew I sounded defensive, so I added, “I just wanted to show you the pictures I took.”

  But I knew I was going to keep watching him until I decided whether to tell Mom. That was plan one, to watch but not say anything. Plan two was watch and, with the mounting evidence, confront Mom and Dad. I needed a plan that was better than either of those, though. It hit me that maybe there was a reason I was taking all those pictures. An idea began forming.

  We finished our drinks quickly and went to a consignment shop so Jenn could pick out something to wear for the jazz concert. While she was trying on her fourth or fifth outfit, I got a text from Dad.

  Dad: Can’t make it—meeting is going late. See you at home. Sorry.

  Back home, I shut myself in my room and flopped onto the bed. How could something so good in my life (Will) and something so horrible (Dad’s affair) be happening at the same time? And now Jenn thought I had gone too far. The section of wallpaper I had picked at when I had something on my mind had been repaired by Mom during one of her house makeovers, but I peeled a few pieces off anyway. I was working on an air bubble when I heard her racing up and down the hallway. This was the way she worked: aerobic house cleaning. Dad was lying to us, and Mom kept washing his dirty clothes. She rapped softly on the door. “Any laundry?”

  I rolled over and pointed to the pile in front of my closet. Watching her toss my stuff into the basket made me want to tell Dad’s secret. She’d never wash another of his socks if she knew. Heat boiled up inside me, and I began to silently cry.

  “What’s wrong?” She sat down on the bed and put her arms around me, kissing the top of my head.

  I pushed down the urge to tell her everything and gave her just some of the truth. “I’m sad. Dad canceled our lunch.” Tears pooled in my eyes.

  She squ
eezed me tighter. “You know he loves you, and you also know how busy he is,” she said. “Think about the good things that are happening,” she said.

  For a second I didn’t know what she was talking about, and then I remembered Will. We’d kissed, he liked me, and I liked him. But we weren’t “official,” and I felt stupid for caring so much. And that made me cry more.

  I told Mom, and she squeezed me tighter. “It’ll be okay. He’ll ask you out, and if he doesn’t, he’s crazy.” She rubbed my back and rested her cheek on my head, and I wrapped my arms around her.

  “I love you, Mom.”

  “I love you, too, sweetheart.”

  CHAPTER 7

  Will worked the next three nights, and Jenn was with Doug every free minute. When I wasn’t working, I found myself in the same parking spot behind the giant oak tree, waiting for activity at the brownstone. Alone.

  I became like the bulldog in the viral video. The dog kept walking into walls but couldn’t figure out why. He was holding a box in his jaws that he wouldn’t let go of even though it covered his eyes. He tried to run off with it, and bam! He’d walk into a wall. But didn’t give up. He’d straighten himself out and try a different direction and bam! Another wall.

  Poor bulldog, he did the same thing over and over, expecting it to be different next time. Just like me lately.

  The difference between me and the dog, besides the fact that I’m not a dog, is that I know that I’m kind of obsessed. I’m also aware that what I’m doing doesn’t change the reality that Dad is having an affair.

  But I can’t stop the spying. I have to know what’s going on.

  By Friday I was bursting to talk about it with someone who “got” it. Since Jenn didn’t want anything to do with my covert activities, I texted Bo about getting together after work. I knew it might mess with his feelings, but I had to unload, and he’d always been my second-best friend. I told myself it was worth it.

  * * *

  I did what I had to do at work, but I couldn’t concentrate. Dad and Uncle Steve had a meeting in the conference room, so while Ellie was at her desk, I sneaked into Dad’s office and took a peek at the day planner. Again, there was nothing out of the ordinary. It was all appointments and normal lawyer stuff, except the next week. There was a slash through it.