Julie flinched at the word “beats,” and her hands tightened on her coffee cup. Sarah said, “We don’t know that—it could have been an accident like Heather said.” I gave her an incredulous look, and her gaze shifted away from mine.
“Maybe you’re seeing abuse because you’re expecting to see it,” Julie said, voice dropping to a whisper on “abuse.” “Like you’re creating the reality you want to see.”
“What does that mean?” I said, no longer bothering to hide my irritation. “That this is all in my head?” How could she and Sarah get what we’d seen at the park out of their heads? I certainly hadn’t managed it.
Seeing that huge welt on Heather’s torso had unsettled me, unearthing old fears and insecurities, taking me into the past.
I hadn’t wanted to move back to my hometown. Michael does IT in financial services, and when his company transferred him from Philly to Pittsburgh, I’d been afraid of the dark memories that would come flying at me, like bats at twilight, every time I passed something familiar. It was one of the reasons I’d insisted we keep away from the east of the city. We moved north instead, trading the Monongahela River for the Ohio, and except for the occasional trip to Kennywood Park, I stayed far away from the neighborhood that I’d once called home.
Despite my trepidation about being back, I’d been charmed by Sewickley. The first time we drove through town, Michael and I had seen a row of unlocked bicycles outside the library. We’d already been awed by the lovely houses and quaint shopping district, delighted that it was a walkable community with good schools, but it was those unlocked bicycles, the sense of security they conveyed, that had confirmed for us that this was the place we wanted to settle and raise a family. I remember resting my hand on my very pregnant belly and thinking this small town was a safe place to raise our child.
Now that sense of security had fled. It didn’t help that Michael had raised the possibility of being transferred back to Philly, when I’d assumed we’d be here forever. Or that the year was turning, the days shorter and the leaves dying, the plants in my backyard garden withering. I could feel bad things coming. One night after dinner, I was washing dishes and staring out at the darkness when Michael’s hands landed on my shoulders, startling me.
“Wow, you’re jumpy,” he said, holding his hands up. “What’s up?”
“Nothing,” I said automatically, and then a minute later, as his hands came to rest on my shoulders again, kneading gently, I repeated, “Nothing, I’m fine.”
But I wasn’t. I had trouble sleeping, lying there in the dark long after Michael was softly snoring beside me. I’d stare up at the fine cracks in the old plaster ceiling while a past I had stored as far away as I could unspooled in my brain until I’d finally fall into a restless sleep filled with haunting dreams.
“You’re a whore.” A face contorted with rage. “You’re nothing but a whore.” A rough hand grabbed my arm and I looked down to watch the formation of a purple mark that looked exactly like the bruise I’d seen on Heather’s wrist.
Shifting in my seat at the coffee shop, I tried to remember why I’d insisted on having this meeting when it was clear that neither Sarah nor Julie was willing to see the truth.
“If Heather says nothing is wrong then what can we do but believe her?” Julie said, stirring sweetener into her coffee. She took a sip and made a prune face. “Oh, yuck, that’s far too sweet.” She dropped the cup and picked up the three empty packets of artificial sugar discarded on the table, genuinely surprised, as if she hadn’t been the person who’d just stirred them into her coffee. At least I wasn’t the only one distracted.
“Even if there is something going on we can’t do anything unless she’s willing to talk,” Sarah said, giving me an apologetic smile over the top of her coffee cup before taking a sip. I didn’t say anything, feeling defeated. Sarah must have taken my silence for a rebuke, because she put down her cup with a decisive click. “Look, all we can do is offer our support and make sure she knows she can turn to us.”
It seemed completely inadequate.
*
A group text came from Heather the next day. Would we like to bring the kids to her house Thursday afternoon after school for a playdate? “Daniel gets bored with no one but me to talk to,” she’d told me more than once, although I wondered if she was really the one who got bored. She never hid the fact that she found much of parenting tedious. I texted back, Sounds great; thanks! Feeling fake because it was so cheery, as if everything were perfectly fine.
Thursday was sunny, one of those perfect fall days when the sky is such a vivid color of blue that it seems almost unreal, and the trees are still heavy with leaves of flaming red and deep gold. There weren’t going to be too many afternoons left like this before winter descended, and for one brief moment I thought of turning back and taking Lucy and Matthew to the park instead so nothing could spoil this beautiful day.
I pulled in right ahead of Julie and Sarah, who’d carpooled, which I found strange because technically I lived closer to Julie. Had Sarah asked for a ride or had they wanted time to talk without me? As I was unstrapping Matthew from his car seat, Heather came around the side of the house and hugged Lucy, who’d raced to throw herself at Heather with her usual enthusiasm.
“Daniel’s around back, go find him,” Heather said, and Lucy took off running. I handed Heather a bag with some cookies I’d brought, giving her a surreptitious once-over. If she had any bruises they were hidden.
“I’m glad you could make it,” she said with a big smile, including Julie and Sarah, who were both struggling to unpack kids and all the things that came with them from Julie’s car.
Did Heather seem nervous? I caught myself wondering. What if Julie was right and I was conjuring up things to fit my own vision of what was happening? What if I was wrong and there were simple explanations for all we’d seen?
“Isn’t it a beautiful day?” Julie exclaimed, her enthusiasm contagious as always, no matter where my mood started. She was carrying Aubrey on her hip while leaning forward to scrape something off Owen’s face with her free hand. Sarah had a tight hold of Josh while she lectured his older siblings to “remember your manners and say please and thank you—Sam, stop kicking your sister!”
I was a little surprised when Heather didn’t take us inside and instead led us around the side of the house. We were all bundled in jackets or sweaters except for Owen. “What am I supposed to do?” Julie said, as he ran past us in a T-shirt, his flip-flops smacking on the gravel. “It was either let him wear what he wants or don’t get here at all.”
Sarah didn’t say anything, but I could feel her judgment of Julie’s parenting. Sarah was a big believer in clear boundaries with one’s children. “Who’s the parent?” was a favorite expression of hers.
The sun was deceptive; it was a lot chillier outside than it looked. I zipped up Matthew’s jacket and wondered if Julie would eventually fetch Owen’s sweater and shoes from the car.
“They’re running around enough not to feel the cold,” she said, watching our kids dashing about the backyard, their cheerful cries and chatter echoing through the trees as if they were a small flock of birds. “Backyard” was an understatement. The property was vast, with a play structure almost as big as the one at the park, plus a full tennis court back behind that and plenty of wide-open green space.
“I’ve got coffee,” Heather said, “I’ll bring it right out.” She headed across the lawn to the stone courtyard at the back of the house and in through a back door. Again, I was surprised that she didn’t invite us inside to sit and talk, like we usually did.