After
Gretchen
Gretchen was just about to dial Becks when her phone vibrated with a text.
She squinted at the screen. Hilary, thank God.
Are you okay?!?! Scotty told me what happened. Do you want me to come over?
Hilary was the best kind of friend for a moment like this—outrageously loyal and completely nonjudgmental, provided she liked you.
Also, her marriage was the very definition of stormy, she and Scotty constantly at each other’s throats, then pawing each other like teenagers.
Money was often at the root of their conflicts.
Hilary wasn’t ashamed to admit that financial security was part of what she’d been seeking in a marriage, but it turned out that dependency was fertile soil for resentment.
I’d love to see you. But in a couple hours? Gretchen wrote back. I have some things I need to take care of first.
Whenever/wherever. Text me and I will be there. xx
Gretchen forced herself to dial Becks. He’d had some real issues over the years, mostly rooted in plain old-fashioned anxiety—at least that’s what the therapists had eventually concluded.
But that anxiety had manifested in some alarming episodes.
Five or six stretches when Becks refused to speak at all for weeks at a time, starting when he was four and not ending until sixth grade.
Selective mutism, the doctors called it.
But then one day the episodes just stopped.
Like a storm suddenly blown through. Richard had been obsessed with understanding why it had started.
But the doctors agreed with Gretchen—better just to let it go than drive yourself crazy.
People weren’t puzzles to be solved. And Becks had been fine ever since.
She and Richard were ecstatic when he got into Dartmouth, and two years in, the school seemed like a surprisingly good fit.
Still, this news? She didn’t really think Becks would suddenly stop talking again, but how could she know for sure?
The whole thing had been so strange to begin with.
When Becks finally picked up, it was obvious Gretchen had woken him.
“What’s wrong?” he asked immediately. “You sound…weird.”
Becks was a human tuning fork, just like Cassandra. Gretchen really did wish her children could listen less. What was it they were so desperate to hear?
“Well, it’s nothing to worry about. Everyone is fine and everything will be fine. It’s just one of those situations. Like getting audited by the IRS.” Coming out with the truth was going to be easier said than done. Gretchen was going to have to work her way up to it.
“You’re being audited by the IRS?” Becks already sounded alarmed.
“No, no.” Gretchen paused, cycling through her options of where to start.
“Someone has died, a woman your dad knew.” But knew was an overstatement—that made them sound like they were…
Ten days. It was only ten days. “An acquaintance. She was on the Kilimanjaro trip. Anyway, it’s tragic, of course.
Your dad is down at the police station answering questions. ”
Even including the time since the trip, it had only been a total of five weeks. How well could you really know someone in that amount of time?
“My God.” Becks sounded very young. And very scared. “What happened to her?”
Gretchen closed her free hand into a fist. She was going to have to get to the point.
“She was…well, murdered,” she managed finally. “But I don’t know the details. The police aren’t sharing them.”
“They think Dad knows something?”
“Yes. Like I said, it’s nothing to worry about. A mistake. It will get sorted out, but it might take a minute.”
“Can I talk to him when he gets home?” Becks did not sound convinced in the slightest that everything was okay.
“Actually, Becks, I think it’s probably a good idea if you come home,” Gretchen said, but almost cheerfully. “I mean, later tonight would be great. But tomorrow would be okay, too. Could you check the train times?”
There were flights, but that would have made the whole situation even more alarming.
“I don’t understand—why do I need to come home? Am I in trouble?”
“Trouble? Of course not!” she said. “Why would you be in trouble?” She laughed, but it sounded tinny. “It’s just, well—Dad’s technically been arrested. He’s being held by the police until his arraignment on Mon—”
“Arrested?” Becks shouted. “Mom, what the hell are you talking about?”
“These things happen, Becks—mistakes. They happen all the time. The important thing right now is for us to stay calm. It’s an inconvenience, that’s all. Your dad will be fine. I’m sure his biggest concern right now is that they find the person who is in fact responsible.”
“I’ll get the next train.” Becks sounded on the verge of tears. Richard was always so much better with the kids when they were overwrought. It was like he had more room for all their feelings.
“The arraignment is Monday, and then your dad will be released on bail. Scotty just wants the whole family to be there in a show of support. Apparently, that’s how these things are done. If it’s at all a problem, then let me—”
Gretchen could hear him moving around. “But can you—I don’t— Why do the police think he did it?”
The words from Richard’s journal flashed into Gretchen’s mind. I’m not ready to go home.
“I have no idea, Becks. The why doesn’t matter. Whatever it is they think, they’ve got it wrong.”
—
Gretchen called Elizabeth next. She had momentum now.
Technically, she called the number for the Community, of course, not Elizabeth directly.
Elizabeth didn’t own a cell phone. That would have constituted participation in the commercial world order she was committed to dismantling.
There was only one phone at the Community, in the commune’s office.
Gretchen knew this only because Richard had visited.
Even more unbelievably, he’d asked Elizabeth if he could.
He’d volunteered. Gretchen had been annoyed, honestly, because it put her in the awkward position of not going.
But there was no way she could have tolerated seeing Elizabeth in that context.
A compound—no electricity, no flushing toilet?
It was barbaric. There really was no other word for it.
It made Gretchen wonder where they—she, really—had gone wrong.
But Hilary had always been quick to shut down this line of thinking.
“Sometimes they just come out batshit,” she liked to say. “Look at mine. Each one crazier than the next.”
This was only marginally comforting. Hilary’s sons—all still in high school—were indeed wild, though in mostly unremarkable ways. Hilary was wild, too. Gretchen wasn’t surprised that the boys had turned out a bit off-kilter.
“The Community,” a cheerful young man answered in a singsong voice after an endless amount of ringing.
Elizabeth had met the “founder” of the Community, Nascent Moon—born Brent Pembroke; yes, those Pembrokes—when she was at Berkeley.
After graduation, she had come with a small group of “followers” to found the “East Coast branch.” At least the group was nonviolent and nonsexual—as far as Gretchen knew.
The best that could be said for them was that they didn’t seem to do much of anything, so they didn’t do much damage, either.
“Can I speak with Elizabeth, please?” Gretchen asked, trying to smile as she spoke so that she might sound less irritated.
“Can I ask who’s calling?”
“It’s her mother,” she said, then added quickly, “And please tell her it’s a family emergency.” Otherwise, Elizabeth might refuse to come to the phone.
“Okay, hold on a quick sec!” Why were they all so abrasively happy?
Gretchen closed her eyes, willing herself to be calm. Patience.
“Mom, what’s wrong?” Elizabeth sounded as young and worried as Becks had. It had been a long time since she’d called Gretchen “Mom.” All Gretchen wanted was to hold the moment.
“Mom!” There the old Elizabeth was—loud and a little mean.
“Elizabeth, don’t shout, for heaven’s sake.
” Gretchen squeezed her eyes shut. Now, all of it out, all at once.
“One of the people on the Kilimanjaro climb with your dad has been murdered and for some ridiculous reason they’ve arrested your father.
It’s a mistake, of course. As you so often point out, the police make them all the time.
” The last bit was an easy sell. Elizabeth hated the police even more than she hated capitalism.
“It’s just an unfortunate situation. That’s all. ”
“ ‘An unfortunate situation’?” Elizabeth shouted. “Mom, what the actual fuck?”
“It is all very shocking,” Gretchen said, trying to guide the conversation back to the point. “But I need you to come home, Elizabeth. We need to show a united front. That starts with all of us being at the arraignment on Monday.”
“Arraignment…This is fucking insane.” Elizabeth’s anger was a relief. Gretchen wanted people to be as enraged as she was at the absurdity.
“Scotty is bringing in an expert, someone who handles a lot of these kinds of cases.” These cases. Violent cases? Cases involving husbands? Possible affairs? All the options were horrifying.
“Send Sam to get me,” Elizabeth said calmly. Sam? That really was next-level. Gretchen had been prepared for Elizabeth to say she’d need to hitchhike, or walk, or whatever those lunatics did to avoid modern transportation. “I’ll be ready when he gets here.”
—
Next up on Gretchen’s call list was Deborah, Richard’s assistant. As always, she answered her phone right away—weekends, nights, holidays. She was devoted to Richard.
“Oh, I’m so glad you called!” she said. “How was the performance?”
Right, Oppy’s assembly. That felt like lifetimes ago. It was nearly 12:30 p.m.—he was probably expected at the office around now.
“It was wonderful. Absolutely wonderful.” Gretchen’s voice was shrill again, setting her own nerves on edge.