The Ruining (15 page)

As IT TuRNEd OuT, Zoe wasn’t dead. Not even close. Her body had hung there, just under the surface of the water in that curious way bodies with a little extra baby fat do, but her mind was alert as ever. And to her, my screams had sounded muted, as though I was playing along. It was only when I jumped in the water that Zoe pulled herself up and saw my face and the way I grasped at her. And then her screams matched mine, her shriller voice twisting with my mature one in a discordant harmony.

But I didn’t remember any of that. After I saw Zoe’s floating form—after I felt panic consume me—I blacked out. I awoke to the sounds of tense murmurings.

“. . . had quite a shock.”
“. . . to the hospital?”
“. . . go then.”

I waited a beat before allowing my eyes to flutter open, to face the reality of whatever had happened to me.
“She’s awake.” The pronouncement came from the tanned face of a boy about my age, his ruddy skin framed by a mass of wavy, sandy-brown hair. I saw him first because he was bent over me, his eyes lit with concern. It took me what seemed like an eternity to register him as Owen. I allowed myself to look around then and saw Walker standing to my left, wearing sopping wet pajamas and looking more strained than I’d thought his normally tranquil visage capable of.
“Where’s Zoe?” I asked, sitting bolt upright, overcome by one of the many waves of nausea I’d become accustomed to. I’d just had a flashback to little Zoe’s body, floating prone and lifeless in the pool.
“She’s fine,” Walker replied tensely. “She’s inside the house.”
“But—”
“She was just playing, Annie,” Owen said gently. “She was fine the whole time. But man, you’ve got some killer maternal instincts. Looks like you hired the right girl for the job, Mr. C.”
“Thanks, Owen,” Walker managed stiffly. “We were lucky to have you around.”
“I was happy to be,” he mumbled.
“Owen, you can leave now,” Libby said tersely.
“Yeah,” Walker agreed, putting a palm on Owen’s shoulder. “We’ve got it from here.” Owen looked at me, reluctant. He didn’t move his hand from where it rested on mine. But one look at Libby convinced me it would be better for him to leave.
“I’ll talk to you later, okay?” I said.
“You’re sure you’re fine?” At that, Libby rolled her eyes dramatically.
“I’m fine,” I assured him, forcing out a small smile for his benefit.
“Okay. See you later on then. I’ll check in.” He gave me a quick kiss on the cheek before walking off. When he reached the fence that separated our houses, he leaped over it like a pole-vaulter.
“Sorry, Mr. Cohen,” he called behind him. “Way faster this way.”
“Hopefully that won’t become a habit,” said Walker under his breath. “Apparently he heard you screaming and was over here pulling you out of the pool before I even made it out of the house. Good thing, too, because you were out cold, Annie. What happened to you?” Walker squinted at me suspiciously. “You look so wan. Are you using drugs? I know college can be crazy, but you know how we feel about that. . . .”
“No, no.” I shook my head firmly. “I just . . . I thought . . .”
“Zoe was playing, that’s all. She and her mom were up early this morning for a swim.”
“I’m sorry.” I struggled to my feet, and it was only then that I realized how awful I must look to them. My clothing was drenched and clinging to my body, my shirt nearly seethrough. I wrapped my towel tighter. I was blowing it. It was only my first semester of school. At this rate, I would never last the year.
“Sit, Annie,” Libby commanded.
“I’m talking to her,” Walker said. Some unseen communication passed between them: a desire on Walk’s behalf to take control. “I’m handling it.”
“It’s fine, Walker,” Libby said calmly, firmly. She gave him a long glare, and I watched his shoulders slump in acquiescence before he even bothered to speak.
“I’m just not sure—”
“It’s fine. Don’t you have to leave for the gym, anyway? It’s already seven-thirty. If you don’t go now, you won’t make it before work.” Libby sat down without waiting for a response. The conversation was over, as far as her husband was concerned. I both sympathized with Walker and admired the way Libby carried herself, the way she took control. It was so rare to see that kind of balance. If my mother had been that way, my life might have turned out differently. Besides, I was glad to talk to Libby. She’d understand why I’d been so freaked out. She knew what haunted my nightmares. Walker stooped to kiss her cheek and waved goodbye to me as he made his way through the back terrace toward the driveway.
Libby patted the empty space next to where she sat on one of the several taupe lounge chairs that decorated the terrace. “It’s better for us to talk with Walk gone,” she told me. “Woman to woman. I’m guessing this is hard for you.” I nodded, sensing that was the right response, but at the time I was too tired and overwhelmed to feel much of anything else. I just wanted it to be over. “I didn’t realize you were still so sensitive to scenarios that involve pools, Annie, but I should have known,” Libby’s voice was gentle, caring. She wasn’t angry. She was concerned.
“I’m not, I just—” But she raised one hand to quiet me. “It’s totally normal, hon, and something we should have anticipated. And we understand if . . .” She trailed off as though searching for the right words. “I’m only saying that you shouldn’t feel pressured to stay with us if it’s too much for you right now.” I felt overcome by a wave of nausea; they were telling me to leave. I must have looked stricken, because Libby was quick to finish. “We want you to stay, Annie! We see this as a good thing, in a way. You were quick to react . . . even if you did wind up passing out. But if this had been the real deal, your screaming would have alerted us, and I guess a watchful eye is better than the alternative.”
“I’d really like to stay,” I said tentatively. “You have to understand that this kind of thing never happens, I—”
“You don’t have to explain it to me.” Libby said with a slight smile. “And I don’t mean to suggest that you should go home. I was just thinking . . . with a trauma like this, maybe you’d be better off getting professional help.” There was a long pause. Was she suggesting that I see a doctor? But where would I live? I decided it would be better not to ask those questions.
“I’m fine,” I repeated.
“Okay then,” Libby said with a resolute smile. “As far as we’re concerned, this never happened. And I’ll make sure I’m available if Zoe ever wants to go swimming, so you never have to worry about taking her. You two can just steer clear of the pool area.” Maybe it was for the best to avoid the pool. As much as I wanted to feel capable, to feel like I’d gotten past that day with Lissa, apparently I hadn’t. And the sight of Zoe . . . I shuddered. It was the kind of thing I didn’t want to experience again. “I think I’m going to go upstairs and nap for a few hours, if it’s okay.”
“Sure. Don’t forget, I have a call at noon, and my yoga trainer’s coming after that. I really need you bright-eyed and bushy-tailed by noon sharp.”
“No problem.”
I slept for a few hours, and the rest of the day passed by in a blur. I had a few texts from Owen of the “R u ok?” variety, but there was no return to the flirting we’d been doing before my freak-out by the pool. I hoped I hadn’t scared him away. I hoped he’d understand why I’d panicked the way I had. But when I called him later that night after my babysitting duties were over, I couldn’t get in touch with him. I didn’t want to be paranoid, but his silence made me anxious. That night, I slept restlessly, and the yellow wallpaper entered my dreams, blending my waking and sleeping states into some kind of suspended, nightmarish haze.

LIBBy ANd wALkER gAvE ME Friday night off to go to the pom squad party—which meant they let me leave the house once Zoe was in bed. The rationale was that (after the pool incident) I should get out and have some fun.

“She’s a kid, Libs,” Walker had told Libby the previous afternoon. “Let her get out, it’ll do her some good. Things have been so tense around here lately.” Then he tickled her neck, making her laugh. “Plus, we could use a little alone time,” he said in a voice that was low, but not so low that I couldn’t still hear it from where I was cutting Zoe’s raviolis into bite-sized pieces.

Libby pretended to think it over, but I knew she’d say yes. Even though she ordered Walker around, she was like Jell-O when he got all romantic. She liked the attention, I had begun to realize. But not just attention from her husband—any kind of attention. It was obvious in the way she lit up whenever

someone asked her exactly how she wanted her coffee fixed or what sort of pattern she wanted for the kitchen tiles or what kind of food I should use to feed the baby.

“I guess I’ll finish papering your bedroom alone then,” she huffed on Friday as I rushed to get ready after putting Zoe down. I’d been hoping that fourth wall, the one that had thus far escaped a very yellow fate, would never get done. I crossed my fingers that she’d be too tired, so I’d never have to be completely sealed in a prison of yellow. Libby treated housework as though it was a fun thing to do on a total whim—like playing the game of dress up when you’re little. But she let me go, that’s what mattered to me. I wasn’t sure why she’d had a change of heart. But I thought maybe it was a sign that things would get better. I would get my life back on track. I would slowly claw my way back into her good graces and she would see that I could handle everything.

I’d made Owen promise to come to the party with me. I still didn’t know Morgan all that well, and I didn’t want to stand there alone like the last time.

“Seriously,” he groaned. “I can’t believe I agreed to this. I thought I was getting out of lame social events when I decided not to go to college. That was kind of one of the perks.”

“I’ve got friends, babe. You just haven’t met them. And you know I’m not really into partying.”
I knew he didn’t mean anything by it, but his words stung. We were sitting in the sunroom playing Memory with Zoe.
“Ha!” I said, “Friends? A likely story.” I was trying to make light of it so I wouldn’t dwell on why exactly I hadn’t met anyone in his life and why we hung out at his place only when his parents were gone. I turned over a bunch of cherries and reached for the third card down in the far lefthand row. More cherries.
“You got a match!” Zoe exclaimed, bouncing up and down a little. She got more adorable each time I saw her. She was a funny kid—always happy to see other people happy, rarely sullen and whiny. She’d had her moments, sure, but I’d seen how other kids screamed at their parents in public, lied to get what they wanted, demanded constant attention. Zoe just wasn’t one of those.
“Zoes, I’ve only got two more than you,” I said.
“Yeah, you’re about to kick our butts,” offered Owen.
“We got butts,” said Zoe.
“Thanks. Really mature, Owen. Zoe, it’s not nice to say ‘butt.’” Zoe just looked up at us from under her long eyelashes and smiled.
“Eh, no permanent damage done.” Owen leaned forward and gave me a quick peck on the cheek.
I rolled my eyes. “You sound like late-night TV.”
“Butt wait, there’s more!” Owen reached over to pinch my butt, sending Zoe into a fit of giggles. I swatted his hand away, but I couldn’t help smiling. Being around Owen restored my equilibrium—I was feeling more myself than I had in days. I was even getting excited about the party. This little dose of normalcy gave me hope.
“Time for bed, Zoes,” I told her. “Let’s get this cleaned up.” She hummed under her breath as she gathered her tiles. The nursery rhyme had become so familiar to me by then that I thought it as much a part of Zoe as her glossy brown ringlets.
I tucked Zoe into bed reluctantly—I worried about being away, even for just a few hours. She’d woken up in hysterics two more times since that first awful night. Once Walker had come to her, and the other time I’d waited five minutes before going myself. Five minutes of hearing her piercing cries split her in two, of wondering what could possess a little girl so painfully. It had been almost as awful for me as it was for her.
“Sweet dreams, little one.” I kissed her on the cheek and ran back down the corridor, giving Libby a quick wave as I passed the great room. She smiled at me from the sofa, where she sat playing with Jackson.
“She’s asleep,” I called out, even though she hadn’t asked.
Then we set off in Owen’s Jeep, twisting our way down the hills of the island, over the Golden Gate Bridge to San Francisco and toward campus. Owen reached over and clasped my hand in his, rubbing my fingertips with his thumb. I looked out my window at the twinkling city reflecting over the water and felt something like peace. I had had a rough start, but things were going to get better, I was certain of it.
“Remind me again who these people are?”
“Person. It’s Morgan, this girl I have some classes with.”
“Morgan. What’s her last name?”
“I don’t know, why?”
“No reason. Just curious.” He squeezed my hand reassuringly. “Sorry about complaining. It’ll be fun.”
But as soon as we walked in, I knew it wouldn’t be fun. It was packed. I didn’t step more than two feet into the dilapidated house before my drunk classmates were spilling beer on my shoes and jeans from both sides of my body. The music was deafening. Owen yelled something in my ear, his hot breath lacing my neck. I felt sticky, hot, overwhelmed. I couldn’t hear him.
“What?” I yelled.
“Where do you want to go?” he shouted again. I shrugged in response, and he took my hand and led me back through the house and out through the kitchen to the backyard.
“Where’s your friend?” he asked once we got out back. One of the four purported kegs loomed a few feet to our right, and people swarmed around it like flies around a dead animal. I shuddered; it was cold outside, and ever since we’d arrived I’d had a strange, anxious feeling.
“Not sure,” I told him. “We’ll be lucky to find her at all in this crowd.”
“I’m guessing it’ll actually be pretty easy,” remarked Owen wryly. He pointed none too discreetly toward a girl nestled up against the shoulder of a huge, brawny guy who leaned against the front porch railings. She was wearing a short blue skirt and a tummy-bearing top. His hand rested against the bare skin of her waist. “Think they’re all in uniform,” Owen asked, “or is this one just extra spirited?”
“Stop!” I elbowed him in the ribs and tried to stifle my laughter. “Surely they’re not all in uniform. Surely not.”
“I wouldn’t be so confident,” Owen said under his breath just as I felt a tap on my shoulder. I swiveled around to find Morgan grinning at me.
“Heeyyy!” she cried out, throwing her arms around my neck. “So glad you could make it!” I could tell from her flushed cheeks that she was already pretty buzzed. And sure enough, she was in full pom squad apparel, complete with little white sneakers and a purple ribbon in her hair. I was about to answer when I saw that her attention had shifted. She squinted over my shoulder and cocked her head to one side, frowning at Owen.
“Owen?” she asked in disbelief. I extracted my shoulder from her grasp and turned Owen’s way, lacing my hand through his. His expression looked wary, uncomfortable.
“Hey,” he responded.
“You guys know each other?” I looked from one face to another; the sight of Owen had apparently sobered up Morgan pretty fast, and Owen had lost his easy smile.
“We went to high school together,” he said. “Morgan was a couple of years behind me.”
“Small world,” I said faintly, eager to ease the tension. “But I thought you were from Kentucky?” None of this was making sense to me.
“Boarding school,” Morgan confirmed. “You’ve got a real catch on your hands, Annie.” It wasn’t immediately apparent from her tone whether she was being sarcastic or sincere. “And how did you two meet?”
“We’re neighbors,” Owen said quickly, removing his hand from my grasp to rake it through his hair. The absence of his hand left me feeling naked and insecure. Had he dropped it because of Morgan? Why was he so uncomfortable?
“You didn’t tell me you were dating someone, Annie!” Morgan’s tone was suddenly bubbly again, as if the awkward moment had never happened.
“Sorry,” I said. “We hadn’t really—”
Before I could finish, she grabbed my hand and tugged me toward the door. “Bathroom break?” she asked, tugging me away from Owen before I could answer.
“No problem,” he told me. “Go catch up. I’ll grab us some drinks.”
Morgan didn’t say anything until she’d dragged me through the throngs and up the stairs and shut me in a second-story bathroom. “How long have you been dating Owen Oswald?” she asked, arms folded across her chest.
“Um, maybe a month,” I said. “Why?”
“You’ve got to break it off, Annie. He is seriously awful. I’m only telling you this because I’m your friend. He’ll totally screw you over. He’ll screw you and then he’ll screw you over.”
“What are you talking about?” I asked, my face flaming. Morgan’s own face was contorted into a singularly nasty expression, something residing in between hatred and disgust.
“Look,” she said. “He dated my older sister for a while. He totally broke her heart. He acted like they were so in love, like everything was perfect, and then—” She trailed off, leaving her sentence open-ended.
“Then what?”
“Then he moved to California, and he broke her heart.”
“Okay,” I shrugged. “So they broke up. That doesn’t make him a bad guy.”
“It was the way he did it, Annie. I’m telling you, he’s cold. The guy doesn’t have a heart.” I stared at her, completely speechless. None of this sounded quite right.
“It’s nuts, I know.” Morgan’s tone had softened, and now she looked sympathetic. “I just don’t want to see you get involved with some shady bastard.”
I nodded. “I’m glad you told me,” I said, though I wasn’t sure if I meant it. My head was throbbing the way it always did when a situation became overwhelming. None of what Morgan was saying matched up with the guy I knew Owen to be. But then, I hadn’t really known him for that long. And my instincts about people . . . they hadn’t always been right. I couldn’t trust my instincts. The truth was, I had loved Dean before my mother married him, before he’d moved in with us. I never knew the difference between right and wrong, because I couldn’t even trust my own gut. I’d loved Dean, and he’d turned out to be a monster. Owen could just as easily be the same.
“You know, I’m not feeling great,” I said to Morgan, “and honestly, I have to be up early tomorrow. I really only came out to see you. But you should go back out there. I’ll have Owen drive me home. I’m just going to take a minute, maybe splash some water on my face first.”
“Okay. Want me to stay with you?”
I shook my head. “Can you just tell Owen I’ll be down in a minute, if you see him?” All I wanted was to be alone for a minute to clear my head.
“Sure.” Morgan hugged me and gave me a light kiss on the cheek. “I’m really glad you came, you know? I knew we’d be friends. I just had that feeling when I first saw you.” I managed a weak smile.
“We’ll do it again,” I said. “Have fun.” And then she was gone, and I was standing in front of a mirror, looking into eyes that didn’t seem mine anymore but a stranger’s. I looked tired; even I could see that. I had faint purple circles under my lower lids that no amount of makeup could banish. I’d gotten thinner, and my cheekbones were more prominent than ever. My hair looked slightly greasy, and it occurred to me that I hadn’t washed it since the previous morning. Even when I was living in our tiny Detroit house—even at my absolute worst—I’d been meticulous about hygiene. I didn’t have great clothes, but I’d made sure I was clean and fresh-looking.
Now as I stared into my own blank eyes, I noticed for the first time how unkempt I looked. I’d brushed my hair and worn mascara and lip gloss and put on a fresh, figureflattering T-shirt, but my skin was uneven where I’d started compulsively picking at it, and my hair hung around my face in limp, greasy strands. I took a quick sniff under my arms, and it was rank. I’d forgotten to wear deodorant. When in the past weeks and months had I forgotten how to take care of myself? When had it stopped being a priority? And what could a guy like Owen possibly see in me, even if I was just a temporary thing to him? Owen could have chosen anyone, but he’d chosen me.
I stared so long and hard at my reflection that it began to morph in front of my eyes into something uglier and uglier until I couldn’t stand the sight of myself. I turned from the mirror and sank down onto the floor instead, hugging my knees to my chest as I leaned against the cabinetry. And then, finally, it hit me. Owen was dating me because he needed something. There was no other possible reason. That had to be it. But what was it he could want? I didn’t have money, or powerful friends, or anything, really. Did he want access to the house? Was he hoping Walker would invest in his tech startup, and this was the easiest way to get to know the family? Or worse, did he have some sort of sick fascination with Libby? I thought back to all the times he’d made fun of her—had there been some sort of weird sexual passion underneath his disdain? It was really weird how intensely he claimed to dislike her, how her presence was always looming over our conversations. Was that disdain actually just a cover for unrequited lust? After all, he’d mentioned her age and her body more than once. He wasn’t unaware of her physical presence. Was I actually just some kind of pawn through which Owen hoped to get closer to the one he really wanted?
I leaped up and bolted downstairs. I was going nuts. I needed to get out of there. I needed to get away from all of these normal college kids thinking about normal things like exams and drinking and hooking up. They were carefree in a way I couldn’t really imagine being, not ever. I was going to call a cab; I wasn’t about to ask Owen to drive me home, not after everything. For god’s sake, maybe he was dangerous. I shivered and pulled my thin cardigan more tightly around my T-shirt. It was early November and beginning to get chilly. The sky was cloudy and there was a thick layer of fog adorning the road in front of me. Soon the heavy rains would start, as Libby had warned me they did every fall and winter. I wished I’d brought something warmer, but I’d assumed I’d be heading straight from the party to the car, that I’d be outside for all of two seconds.
I dialed 411 and had the operator connect me to the number for a car service. I was just dialing the car service when Owen jogged up.
“Hey! Annie!” he called out. “What’s going on? I’ve been waiting for you for the past fortyfive minutes. I thought you ditched me for some other guy.” He cracked a little smile, but I could see through it to the confused hurt that lay underneath.
“You knew I was talking to Morgan,” I said. “You had to have known she’d tell me about you and her sister.”
Owen sighed. “I thought maybe she’d keep her mouth shut out of respect for your feelings,” he said.
“What, so you could continue to manipulate me?”
“Annie,” he said a little angrily, “how am I manipulating you? I dated her sister four years ago for, like, two seconds. Why would it have been worth mentioning? I didn’t even know you and this Morgan were friends.”
“I’m fine calling a cab,” I told him, unwilling just yet to get into the rest of it. I wondered exactly how long “like two seconds” really was.
“It’ll be close to eighty dollars from here! Just let me take you. Please.” I eyed him suspiciously. It would be a lot easier to get a lift home with Owen. Was I angry enough to spend an entire day’s paycheck on a cab?
“Okay,” I said. “I’ll let you take me. But I don’t want to talk about this anymore, and I want to go straight home.”
“Done.”
When we pulled into the driveway, though, Owen fidgeted in his seat and turned the music down a little instead of cutting the engine. A light rain had started to fall, a prediction of what was to come.
“What?” I asked. “Is it something about Morgan?”
“No,” Owen said slowly. “But there is something that I think I should talk to you about.”
“Okay.” I wondered if he was interested in someone else. If he didn’t want to date me anymore.
“I really didn’t want to bring this up like this . . . after a night of fighting.”
“Can you please just say it?” I asked. “It’s really excruciating, the way you’re dragging it out like this.”
“Sorry,” he said. He unbuckled his seatbelt and moved closer, grabbing my hand. “It’s nothing bad. I mean, I think it’s good news. Great news, actually. The thing is,” he took a deep breath, as if he was nervous about whatever it was he was about to say. “I was recently contacted by a big investor who likes what I’m doing with the company.”