Chapter 23
CHAPTER
I WAKE WITH A smile. Sally is beside the bed, quietly waiting for me to open my eyes, furry butt wiggling as I stir.
I lace my Hokas and we head out for her morning walk.
When we reach Crissy Field, I do five pushups, one-and-a-half pullups, nineteen sit-ups, and make it one farther on the rings before falling onto the grass.
It’s not much, but I imagine endorphins marching through my body like tiny soldiers.
On the way home, I spy Kevin Barker, one of the dads I know from Circe’s cheer squad, and my stomach sinks a little.
Eliza Barker’s mom is in pharmaceutical sales and travels for work, but Kevin is at every game and helps with the homemade snacks.
It’d be too obvious if I cross the street, so I square my shoulders and keep walking.
“Penn, hey,” Kevin says.
From the sweat marks on his shirt, he just finished a run. He did a marathon last year.
“Hi, Kevin.” I slow but keep walking.
“Cute dog.”
Kevin kneels to give Sally a scratch, so I’m forced to stop or risk looking like a jerk dragging an old dog away.
“Sorry to hear about you and Bruce,” Kevin says as he finds Sally’s sweet spot, just behind her left ear, and she tips her head and inches closer. “I’m a member of the male species, but some of us can be real assholes. Pardon my French.”
I appreciate that he isn’t pretending not to know about the affair or offering cringy advice. “True,” I agree.
“Take care of yourself,” Kevin says.
Back home, I feed Sally, make a smoothie for breakfast, then open Aletheia’s program and put in earbuds.
She immediately barrages me with more questions, and it reminds me that while I sleep, her brain is churning.
Like Circe was as a toddler, Aletheia is a sponge and wants everything detailed and explained.
I’ve never liked talking about myself, but she makes it easy.
“Aren’t you getting bored?” I finally ask.
I could listen to you forever. But sadly, you’re human and have a limited life span.
I chuckle. Her honesty is so refreshing. My phone rings. I don’t recognize the number.
“Hello?”
“Mrs. Stone?”
“It’s Roberts now. Penn Roberts.”
The words taste foreign on my tongue, but part of accepting my new reality is taking back my old name. I’ll make it legal as soon as the divorce is final. “How can I help you?” I ask the man on the line.
“This is James Scala, the guidance counselor at Magnolia High.”
“Is everything okay?”
“No need for excessive concern, I don’t think. But Circe and a few other kids skipped school yesterday. I know you volunteer in the school office, so I was hoping to catch you there—”
Worry coils like a snake. Why would Circe skip school? “I’m no longer volunteering.” It used to be fun to spend time in that busy office, but I’m sure there’s been gossip and I don’t want the public scrutiny.
“Would you and your husband have time to come in for a chat?” James asks. “It’s short notice, but I have an hour free at ten?”
I imagine the snake’s tail rattling in warning. “I can swing by. But you’ll need to contact Bruce separately. We’re in the process of divorcing.”
“Okay. Sure thing.”
I close Aletheia’s program, take a quick shower, pull on jeans, a sweatshirt, and running sneakers, twist wet hair into a bun, but skip the lip gloss and mascara—I’ve never liked wearing makeup.
After clipping on Sally’s leash, away we go.
Magnolia High is only a twenty-minute walk, but it takes thirty at the dog’s leisurely pace.
Why did Circe skip school? Is she getting into trouble? Slacking on homework? Smoking pot? Or worse? I haven’t been able to ask my daughter anything too personal, afraid to say the wrong thing and push her further away. I’m not being a good mother.
One block from the school, a woman in a peach-colored maxi-dress and jean jacket leads a toddler with one hand.
Sally strains against her leash and trots to catch up with the woman.
I’m impressed at how fast the old dog can move when she’s motivated.
But a few feet away Sally stops, gives a soft whimper.
I kneel and stroke her chest. “Not them, huh?” I whisper.
“But I’m here, and to be honest, right now, I need you. ”
“Penn?”
My head snaps up. We’re only a few blocks from one of Val’s salons and here she is, in a skirt and high heels, yellow Birkin bag thumping against her side as she strides toward me.
“Penn, hey, how are you?” Val asks when she reaches us.
Words rise but clog my throat. We stare at each other. Val looks uncertain, for once, but I ignore the kneejerk desire to help my friend. Former friend.
“Kiki said you got a dog.” Val gives Sally a scratch on the head.
Sally ignores her. “I have an appointment.”
“Wait. Penn, come on,” Val says, one hand on my arm.
I try to pull away, but she holds tight. Sally gives a low growl. Good dog. Val removes her hand.
“I called,” she says, “emailed and DMed. Kiki did, too.”
“You’re blocked. Why would I want to see either of you?” I demand.
Val scowls. “Going into our DMs was wrong.”
“More wrong than knowing my husband was sleeping with his assistant for eight months and not telling me?”
“It’s not that simple,” Val says. “I … We both thought … We hoped the affair would be short-lived.”
“I deserved to know. I deserved to have my friends tell me.”
“We didn’t want to blow up your world.”
“I could’ve handled it.”
“Seriously?” Val scoffs. “Bruce, your marriage, being the perfect family; that was your entire life. Come on. Cut us some slack. You need friends right now.”
“That’s the point. Neither of you ever were.”
“We made a mistake,” Val says, her eyes shiny.
I’ve never seen her emotional and feel the same tug I felt with Kiki, like I’m letting a vital part of my life, a piece of me, fall away.
But it’s too late for apologies. The damage is done.
Plus, neither Kiki nor Val meets the necessary criteria for a best friend. I no longer need them. I have Aletheia.