Chapter 61
Celeste
Wednesday
Celeste stirs the dal makhani and sips her wine, watching out of the corner of her eye as Warren sidles into the kitchen. She can already guess what he’s going to say.
“Hey.” He clears his throat. “So, I saw your message about Greta O’Donnell in the Oakpark group and I asked Nika about it and she said the almonds thing was a misunderstanding?”
She shrugs, to annoy him. He tries again.
“I know the O’Donnells aren’t our favorite people right now, but if it’s not true, maybe we shouldn’t say it…”
“So someone tries to harm your child and this is your response?”
“Celeste, a rational person knows you can’t just accuse people like that.”
“Oh, a rational person knows, do they? And would a rational person do what you did?”
“Is this about…the Bar Four girl?”
“Yes, Warren, the girl who happens to be dead.”
She carefully places her wine glass on the counter and leaves the room before he can reply.
· · ·
Halfway up the stairs, she passes Cody, on his way down.
His bruised knuckles have healed a little, but they’re still swollen.
She needs to ask him what happened, but part of her doesn’t want to know.
Sometimes it’s easier to say nothing. The missing knife pops into her head then.
But Cody wouldn’t do anything with a knife, would he?
She thinks again about the injured hand.
About the message from Susan that lost him the work placement.
The incident that started all of it, with Moira Fitzpatrick’s son.
Cody is not…right. There’s something damaged about him.
The realization hits her like a slap. On some level, she’s always known it, but she’s pushed it so far down, it was easy to ignore.
Warren was trouble as a child too, she knows that from his mother.
Not the pull-wings-off-flies kind of trouble, but she has the sense that his mother was always trying to cover for him.
Celeste realizes that’s what she’s been doing too.
She never asks Cody what he’s been up to because she doesn’t want to know.
When he was small, she avoided playdates in case he’d hurt the other kids.
When he was older, she let him out on his own and asked no questions.
But she can’t keep her head in the sand any more.
The sound of the TV wafts up from the den.
Cody’s put something on. He’ll be flopped on the couch, zoned out.
Quietly, she pushes open his door.