If You Only Knew
Page 88

And that’s when the perfect storm hits. The sidewalks on this street are erratic, veined with tree roots thanks to poor arborist choices fifty years ago. Adam, driven by my forefinger’s Thor-like strength—or rage, as the case may be—takes a step back, trips over a bump and lands on his ass against a metal garbage can, which clangs into a parked car.
Right as a police car happens to be driving down the street. There’s the blip of a siren, lights start flashing.
I’m guessing it looks like I am indeed assaulting him.
“Jesus, Jenny, take it easy!” Adam says, loud enough for Rachel to hear. He flips me the bird, but subtly.
And sure enough, it works. “Jenny! What did you do? Calm down!” She runs down the steps.
“Nothing! Rach, he fell. Tell her you fell, you little worm.” I take another step toward Adam, fully intending to give him a hand up, but someone puts his arms around me from behind. Leo. “What are you doing?” He lifts me up—easy for him, since he’s a good six inches taller—and carries me back a few paces, as if I’m an actual threat. “Put me down!”
“Calm down, Jenny, and be quiet.”
“I just poked him, okay? He fell because he’s an uncoordinated cheating asswipe.”
“Shush,” he murmurs into my ear. “You don’t want to get arrested.”
That has quite the wallop. I freeze. Yeah, okay. I can see how this looks bad. Adam cowering, Rachel wringing her hands, me towering over the fallen.
Crap.
The cop gets out of his car. Rachel crouches by Adam’s side. “Are you okay?” she asks, putting her hand on his shoulder. She never could tolerate someone being hurt.
Crap on a crutch.
“Sir,” the officer says, “do you think you can get up?”
“I think so,” Adam says. He never was stoic. The man once drove himself to the ER for a cold, convinced that his stuffy nose was pneumonia. It used to be a funny story. “My back hurts. I think I strained it when she pushed me.”
“I did not push you, Adam! He fell on his ass! He tripped!” I sound like an abusive husband explaining why his wife has a black eye. Leo’s right. I’m going to get arrested.
“Stay right where you are, lady, and quiet down. Ma’am,” the cop says to Rachel, “please step over here.” He lifts the radio on his shoulder and adds, “We’ve got a domestic here, 11 Magnolia. Possible injuries.”
Within two minutes, there’s an ambulance on the street. Legions of neighbors—who generally seem to like me but are now giving me strange looks—have come out to enjoy the drama, and I’m trying to look extremely unthreatening and gentle. Which I am.
Adam turns down the offer of an ambulance; I guess it’s protocol to call one, even when the vic is faking.
Rachel is questioned by a police officer. Adam is questioned. I’m questioned. When I ask if this is really necessary, the officer coolly informs me that DV—domestic violence—calls can be the most dangerous. Leo is questioned as a witness—and sadly, tells the truth—he only saw me standing over my brother-in-law. Loki barks hysterically from Leo’s courtyard, adding to the whole Cops feeling of the evening.
“Can I take my dog inside?” Leo asks. “He’s old and confused.”
“Sure,” the cop says. “I need to ask Mr. Carver a few more questions.”
Leo looks at me. “You know where I live,” he says.
“Yeah. Thanks.” He squeezes my hand, then goes to his true love.
It’s awfully lonely without him. I catch Rachel’s eye, give a half grimace, half smile.
She looks away, and my heart sinks so fast I feel sick.
“Okay,” the cop says when he comes back to me. He cocks an eyebrow. “He’s not going to press charges.”
“Against the sidewalk? Because that’s why he tripped. These are a hazard, you know.”
“Ma’am, look,” he says. “These situations can get very ugly. Okay? Just try to keep your temper.”
“I don’t have a temper,” I say.
“Don’t make me write you up.”
“Thank you, Officer,” I amend.
“That’s better.”
Adam signs a piece of paper, glancing at me.
I don’t like the way Rachel only left his side to check on the girls. The bedroom windows are open, so we’d hear them if they needed anything.
I think my babysitting days have been curtailed for a little while.
I have to give Adam credit. He played that perfectly. No wonder he got away with an affair.
“Let’s go inside to talk,” Rachel says when the cops have left and the neighbors drift back to their homes. I’m still standing on the sidewalk, not sure what to do.
“No,” Adam says. “Look, Jenny hates me, I get that. I deserve that. But, Rachel, we can’t fix our marriage if you’re staying with her. I love you. I love the girls.” He pauses. “I miss the way things were.”
And those are the magic words, apparently, because Rachel wavers.
“Please, baby,” Adam whispers, and if he hadn’t flipped me off and milked that fall, I might be pulling for him. But I know better.
Rachel does not know better. All of a sudden, they’re hugging, and she’s crying and he’s murmuring, and I can’t help it, I hear myself saying, “Rachel, you gotta be kidding! Don’t fall for this again! You deserve better than this scumbag.”