Accidents of Marriage (5 page)

“I’m thirsty.” Heads turned toward Elizabeth. The way she used her upper-class breeding and cool good looks to her advantage in this crowd amused Ben. Despite bragging about their working-class roots, the men populating the Public Defender’s deferred to Boston Brahmins as though at heart they, the children of welders and bus drivers, were truly serfs of the city.

“The princess is thirsty—where shall we raise our glasses?” Gerry asked.

Lorna Kennedy, the only other woman in the room, shook her head in disgust. She was dumpy, fifty-seven, and wore flat shoes. No one raised glasses on Lorna’s behalf. Ben knew he should feel indignation for her, but instead he filed it under yet another injustice he’d lost the motivation to fix.

“Let’s go next door,” Ben said. “But I can’t stay late.”

The trip anointed, they rose almost as one. Elizabeth watched Ben, her eyes hot on him—undoubtedly the alpha in the room. He stood straight to be as tall as she, rolling up his sleeves to show his handball muscles.

Ben didn’t know if she had a Daddy thing, a tough-guy thing, or a smartest-guy-in-the-room thing, but he knew this: She latched on more each day.

•  •  •

He had two beers before calling Maddy. He should have waited on the second drink—stayed sharp. Even through the phone, he heard things slamming.

“Is it my imagination,” Maddy asked, “or have you missed supper five times in a row?”

“Sorry. I couldn’t help it,” Ben lied.

“Where are you now?”

“I left you a message. It’s that case I told you about.”

“I called the office. No one answered.”

“We were in the conference room,” he said.

“It sounds loud. Where are you?” she repeated.

“Jesus, some of us ran out to get dinner. We were hungry.” He turned toward the wall, away from the noise of the bar, pushing his cell phone closer to his ear. He should have gone outside. Water running and the sound of damp slapping muted Maddy’s words. “What are you doing?”

“Cooking chicken,” she said. “I’m tired of having dinner alone with the kids, Ben.”

He hunched over as Elizabeth came toward him, presumably on the way to the restroom. She tapped his shoulder with two fingers as she passed. “You know how it gets at crunch time, Mad.”

“Couldn’t you bring work home? Then at least we could all eat together. I hate when you don’t tell me what’s happening in time for me to plan my night.”

“What are you making? A banquet?”
Lower yourself a few notches.
He worked to rise above the beers he’d downed. Handling alcohol had never been his strength.

“Mom?” Emma’s voice floated in from the background.

“Hold on,” Maddy said to him. “What, hon?”

“I’m not going out tonight.”

He pictured Maddy holding the phone in her right hand, just off from her mouth and ear, as she always did when interrupted.

“Caro canceled. Her—”

“Can you wait a second, Emma? Daddy’s on the line,” he heard Maddy say.

He exhaled through the phone. “Can I get back to my dinner?” he asked.

“When will you be home?”

“I can’t say for sure.” He stifled a belch, guilt and beer making a sour mix in his stomach.

“When will you know?”

“I’ll call you.”

“Bennie? When will we have some real time together?” He heard her sigh. “I’m tired of sounding like a bitch. I love you.”

“I love you too.” Mentally, he’d already hung up. “When the kids are back in school, things will get better. We’ll get away, just the two of us.”

“Promise?”

“Absolutely. I’ll see you soon.”

He walked back to the table. A fresh beer sat at his place.

•  •  •

Ben wondered how pissed Maddy would be. He sped toward Huntington Avenue, weighing possible excuses. Ten o’clock hardly matched “see you soon.” What could he say? Life falling apart for B-bird’s family? Welfare in the future for B-bird’s mama if he didn’t get the kid out on bail? Anything that would keep Maddy quiet.

He considered the extreme stupidity of that fourth—or was it fifth?—beer. Everyone had left except him and Elizabeth. Self-reproach crept in, even as he felt that shiver of excitement newness will bring.

Leaving had been virtually impossible with her laughing at his jokes, her eyes shining as he bragged about cases he’d won. Each self-aggrandizing word brought him closer to temptation, until finally he’d pushed himself from the table.

A large crowd milled on the outskirts of the wide sidewalk edging Copley Square. Trinity Church rose in his rearview mirror; across Dartmouth Street was the old entrance to the Boston Public Library main branch. Hell, he loved that damned building. He could have been an architect.

Copley Plaza loomed like the queen of the area—
that
was a hotel.

Why did they never get here? It was only ten minutes from the house. He should bring Maddy for a romantic dinner. Better yet, he’d have her parents sleep at their house while he and Maddy stayed over at the hotel.

He vowed he’d do it before Labor Day.

Where do all these wonderful plans go, Ben?
Maddy popped into his head again. He loved her. He loved his children. Why did they always
make him feel like a failure? Maybe he didn’t always follow through with his intentions—but who did?

Maddy was always talking about how she should spend more time one-on-one with Emma. Jesus, she was growing up so fast. It terrified both of them. They had to stick together on this one. No bullshit.

Tattoos covering large swaths of skin fought for visual attention with skimpy T-shirts among the teenagers milling on the sidewalk. Half the buses in Boston converged here, including the number 39, which stopped one block from his house. Which, he supposed, explained seeing Emma there.

What the fuck?

Ben pulled over, turned on his flashers, and got out of the car. Emma laughed at something some skinny kid said. She looked up at the twerp as though he were a combination rock star and comedian. He snuck up behind her and clamped a hand on her shoulder. Hard.

“Hey!” the kid said, putting up a hand as though to stop Ben. “Get your hand off her.”

Emma turned. Red glossy stuff covered her lips, sending a slick invitation that made him twitch for his handkerchief, dying to rub the shiny covering off. Maddy allowed that? Thick circles of black she’d drawn around her eyes made her look like a raccoon.

The kid tried to pull Emma away from Ben—point for the kid. He looked okay. At least he wasn’t covered in tattoos and his ears weren’t stretched out with those grotesque donut things.

“Dad!” Emma said. “What are you doing here?”

“What am
I
doing here? Hardly the question.” Alcohol numbness made it difficult to feel his lips as he spoke. “Get in the car.” He took care to articulate each word.

“Let me explain. Caro’s here. And Sammi. It’s not what you think.”

“You don’t have a clue what I think. Get in the car.”

“Dad, could you at least let me—”

“
Get in the car.
”

She shrugged off his hand and marched away, slamming the car door after she got in. He saw Caro and Sammi trying to shrink to the size of birds.

“Need a ride, girls?”

Sammi shook her head, looking like she was about to throw up.

“My father is picking me up at the bus stop,” Caro said. “Sammi too. But thanks.”

Ben had never trusted Caro—he knew lying when he heard it—but he’d deal with that tomorrow. Let the kid stew in her worry about whether or not he’d call her parents for now. “Right. Be careful.” He spoke slowly.

He slid behind the wheel. Emma sat as close to the door as possible.

“Where does your mother think you are?”

Emma shrugged.

“Answer me. Now.” His voice rose on the
now
.

“Sleeping.”

“Nice. Great stuff there, Emma. What did you do? Climb out the window? Who the hell was that boy?”

Emma sat mute, her mouth locked so tight her lips turned white.

“I asked you something.”

“His name is Zach. He’s friends with Caro’s cousin.” Emma crossed her arms. “I’m not going to talk to you when you yell. You don’t scare me, you know.”

“I have news for you—you
will
talk to me. I can begin and end your world.”

She turned her head away and stared at the front of the Museum of Fine Arts, acting mesmerized by the Native American statue guarding the front.

“You’re being an idiot,” she said out the window. “And you sound drunk.”

“Be smart; don’t say another word until we get home.” He revved the car and then took a left-hand turn so sharp the wheels squealed, turning toward Columbus Avenue.

•  •  •

“Guess where I found her? Come on, just guess,” Ben said.

Maddy struggled up from the couch, looking groggy. A book had fallen to the floor.

“Do you have a clue where your daughter was tonight?” Ben pushed Emma forward, deeper into the living room.

“What time is it?” Maddy asked.

“Ten thirty.” Emma’s voice was tight. Ben suspected she was more scared than she let on.

Good.

“What’s wrong?” Maddy lifted her reading glasses from her chest and sat up.

Ben loosened his grip on Emma, fearing he’d bruise her in his fury. “You didn’t know she was out?” He fumed as Maddy straightened her wrinkled shirt and ran her fingers through her hair. He noticed the wineglass on the table.

“Emma? What happened?” Maddy asked. “You said you were going to bed.”

“Apparently she changed her mind.” Ben steered his daughter to the chair angled next to the couch and pushed her into it. “Apparently she snuck out, and did God knows what.”

“Why would you do that?” Maddy asked Emma.

“
Why?
That’s your first worry?
Why?
” Ben smelled his musk rising—exhaustion, court, aftershave gone flat, and beery rankness. And himself. Something indefinable, something feverish. He should shut the fuck up.

“All I did was go to the mall with kids who have normal parents, who don’t get hysterical,” Emma said. “Ones who let them out.”

He ignored Emma and kept at Maddy. “Who’s in control around here? Where the hell were you? How could you not hear her leave? What goes on around here?”

“Why don’t you come home once in a while and find out?” Emma hissed under her breath. She rolled into a tight ball in the stuffed chair.

“What did you say?” Ben kicked a toy truck across the room and then forced himself to step back. Maddy moved to the corner of the couch closest to Emma’s chair.

“I said, why don’t you come home once in a while and find out?”
Emma repeated, pronouncing each word as though Ben were feebleminded.

“Stop. Now. Both of you,” Maddy demanded. “Emma, how did you get out without me hearing you? Did you climb out the back?”

“I climbed out my window.” Emma pointed her chin at Ben. “You guessed it, Dad.”

“You climbed out the window? Do you have any idea how much trouble you’re in?” Ben pulled Emma up by her wrist. “Go to your room. Consider yourself grounded until further notice.”

Emma wrested her arm away and turned to Maddy. “This wouldn’t have happened if you’d let me go out like a regular kid instead of saying I had to bring my friends here for inspection as though they’re criminals.” She started to leave.

Ben grabbed her shoulder and spun her around. He stuck his finger in her face. “Don’t you dare talk to your mother like that. Do you hear me? You’re on thin enough ice as it is. I can make this grounding last a year.”

“All you ever want is for me to take care of Gracie and Caleb,” Emma screamed. “You treat me like a maid. Both of you.”

“Get out of my sight. Go to your room,” Ben shouted.

“
Happily.
” Emma stormed out, pushing the toy truck with her foot as she left.

Once Emma was up the stairs, Ben turned to Maddy, his rage expanding each minute. “How could you let that happen?”

“Let what happen? She snuck out.”

“Because you were asleep?” He looked pointedly at her wineglass.

Maddy sat straighter on the couch. “Don’t play offense. I had one glass of wine after the kids went to sleep. You reek of beer.”

“Am I not allowed to have a drink to relax?”

“You’re out of control,” Maddy said.

Falling next to her on the sofa, Ben collapsed in on himself. At the bar, he’d been on top of his game: Elizabeth and what’s-his-name clamoring for his attention. They gobbled his agency gossip spoon by spoon. Now he was “out of control.”

“I feel like shit.” He covered his eyes with his arm.

Maddy shifted forward on the sofa. “We need to talk about Emma.”

Nausea overtook him. He sat up straight, taking shallow breaths, positive for one awful minute he’d throw up right there. “I’m done in.”

“Then we need to make a date to talk,” she said. “Do you think you can make it home tomorrow night?”

Maddy’s voice banged through his head like the brass section of the Boston Pops. “In the morning,” he said. “I promise.”

“I have to leave early,” she said. “I’ve been trying forever to get a hearing for a client, and it’s on tomorrow, and Olivia and I are running an early group. You have to get the kids to camp because—”

There was no doubt: He was going to throw up. “Got it,” he said as he walked out.

•  •  •

The bedroom door opened with a torturous squeak. Morning mouth, bitter as bile, coated his tongue and teeth.

“Daddy, don’t you know how late it is? Wake up!” Gracie shook his shoulder. Caleb bounced on the bed.

“Slow down.” Ben grabbed Caleb’s arm. “Where’s Mommy?”

“Gone.” Caleb began his bouncing again.

“Quit it,” Ben said. “
Now.
”

Caleb stopped.

“Mommy left,” Gracie said. “She said to make sure you woke up.”

“Right.” Vague memories floated in. Ben turned his throbbing head and glanced at the clock. “Shit.”

“You shouldn’t curse.”

“Right. Sorry. Daddy forgot he had a meeting in Brockton. It’s a long drive.”

Where were the damn papers he needed?

“Mommy squeezed orange juice for you. Do you want me to bring you some?” Gracie asked.