Young Wives (32 page)

“What drug test?” the lawyer asked, her voice raised.

Jada explained what had happened and there was a long silence at the other end of the phone. “I screwed up, didn’t I?” Jada asked.

“I don’t know. I think maybe I did,” Angie told her. “Look, let me call a few people tonight and see what I can figure out. How about we meet early tomorrow? Before you go to work?”

“Before I go to work, I walk. Why don’t you walk with us?” Jada asked. “You only live a few blocks from here. And I would hate to miss my walk with Michelle.” There was another pause, but this one was much briefer.

“Fine,” Angie Romazzano said. “What time should I be there?” Jada told her and Angie groaned. “God, I’ll be exhausted.”

“You think you’re tired?” Jada asked. “I worked, then I had this interview with Mrs. I-Hate-You-Because-You’re-A-Bad-Incompetent-Mother, and now I have to put on a happy face and pretend everything’s fine.” Jada took a big sigh. “What I really want is to see my kids more than anything, of course. But Lord knows I feel like shit. I don’t want to break down in front of them. And I’m so afraid, afraid that…well, this wasn’t a good thing.”

“Don’t worry, Jada,” Angie said. “We’ll get you your kids back. I promise.”

That evening, after Jada fortified herself with a prayer and even considered a glass of rum and Coke, which she passed on, she finally picked up the phone and called her parents in Barbados. They had a little house not far from Crain Beach and Jada imagined her mother jumping when the phone rang in the evening island stillness. Jada had decided she wasn’t going to tell them everything—if she did they’d be up there beside her, and right now she didn’t think she could face them. They probably couldn’t be of much help anyway.

It hurt her pride to have to admit to her mother that all of the woman’s maternal instincts and prejudices had been right. She didn’t want to upset her father, who had a mild heart condition and high blood pressure. Most of all, she didn’t want to break down and cry like a brokenhearted child. She wondered if the air down there was sweet with the smell of frangipani or night-blooming jasmine.

When, on the fifth ring, she heard the receiver lifted and her mother’s voice saying, “Hello? Hello?” Jada was silent for a minute. Then she took a deep breath.

“Mama?” she asked, though she recognized her mother’s voice. “Mama, you were right.”

All girls get moving

Angie hadn’t been able to reach her mother the night before, so in desperation she tried Michael, who was the clinic’s specialist in marital law. He answered the phone on the first ring, and after Angie apologized profusely, she told him about Jada Jackson’s meeting with the social worker and the unexpected request for a urine sample. “Is that usual, Michael?”

“No,” he said. “There would have to be some real strong allegations about her. The husband, or George Creskin, is really playing hardball. And it’s a no-win for your client. If she refuses, she looks bad. And she doesn’t have to take it. But why
didn’t
she take the test—humiliating as it was—just to prove how unsubstantiated his position is?”

“I don’t know,” Angie admitted. “But I’m going to meet with her tomorrow morning at six and find out.”

“Boy, you’re really throwing yourself into this.” Michael paused. “Do you mind if I give you some non-legal advice?”

Angie didn’t like advice, legal or not, but she liked the way he asked, giving her the option to refuse it. He really was a thoughtful, nice guy. “Okay,” she said. “Fire away.”

“This job can eat you up,” he said. “You have to be committed but detached. I know that sounds contradictory, but it’s the only thing that works.” He paused for a minute and Angie was about to say thanks when he cleared his throat and continued. “These clients can break your heart if you get too involved,” he said. “And it can destroy your personal life.”

“Oh, that’s okay,” Angie told him. “I don’t have one of those.”

The next morning when the alarm went off, Angie felt that it was impossible for her to get up and go out. It was still really dark. But she forced herself to pull on the old Rangers sweatshirt (which she actually had thrown into the wash a couple of times since she’d begun wearing it) slipped into her father’s jogging pants, and was sure to put on two pairs of socks along with her sneakers.

Trudging down the street toward Elm, feeling like a kid trussed up in snow pants, she thought about her conversation with Michael. She was sure he meant well. Her answer had probably sounded snotty to him, but it was true. She had no private life, except for the secret inside her. Aside from her trip to Marblehead, a couple of business lunches, some dinners with her mother, and the apartment hunting, Angie hadn’t been out of her father’s house. She didn’t even make phone calls because she had lost not only her husband but her close friend, and she wasn’t in the mood to tell her old college friends or law school acquaintances about the collapse of her life. Most of them probably knew by now anyway, though, thanks to the nasty grapevine—the one that always let classmates know when someone didn’t get a partnership.

She had no close girlfriends, no hobbies, no home, and she was living off what was left in her checking account, the clinic’s tiny salary—which was still a temporary per diem—and her father’s unpredictable charity.

She had cooked her dad dinner the night before so she could prepare him for her move. As she expected, he had been grateful for her company and the grilled chicken, but he hadn’t been glad about her relocation news. “It’s not necessary,” he said. “It’s just an extra expense.”

Angie suspected he was hurt and still recovering from the fact that she was working with her mother. Now, if she wasn’t living with him, he was probably afraid he wouldn’t see her. Her father was an odd man. She knew that he loved her, but they didn’t have much to share. It was odd thinking of her mom putting up with her dad for all those years, and odder still to think that he had broken up the marriage by cheating on Natalie. Not that it had done him much good; the second marriage hadn’t worked and now he was stuck here alone without much of a life. Angela knew that he would both miss her company and be ashamed to admit it. Why was it that people who wanted to be with her were not the people she wanted to be with, and the people she wanted to be with didn’t want a thing to do with her?

If I think about this, I’ll go insane
, Angie told herself. Then she realized that she was trudging through the dark on the cold street because she was moving toward the warmth she saw between Jada Jackson and her friend. She missed friendship—if she’d had any. Thinking about Lisa made her so angry or depressed she pushed the thought from her mind. She missed not Lisa, but having a real friend. Well, this walk probably was a bad idea, but it wouldn’t kill her to get a little exercise, just this once.

When she joined Jada and Michelle, they were in the middle of the street just around the corner from their homes. They greeted each other silently and Angie turned around to walk back in the direction they were going, back past her father’s house.

“We could just stop and pick you up on our way,” Jada said.

“Yeah,” Michelle agreed. “Jada always gets me. Except for those couple of times she couldn’t get in gear. Then I got her. We could both get you and make sure you do the circuit.”

Despite the cold, Angie felt warmed through by the offer. The kindness of inclusion felt so good it almost made her choke up.
Boy, you are
really
vulnerable
, Angie told herself.
Better watch out or you’ll be rolling over and barking for treats. Remember not to lick their hands when we say good-bye
. They trudged for half a block in silence and then Jada picked up the pace. Angie figured she better get down to business. “So, tell me about this interview.”

Jada shook her head. “It was unbelievable,” she said. “I would say the woman was a bigot, except she obviously wasn’t prejudiced against my husband.”

“There’s another five-letter word that begins with ‘b’” Michelle said. “She was just a bitch.”

Angie asked for all the details, though it was obvious that Michelle had already heard them. They walked up a steep hill, then down it; around a bend, another long hill appeared. Angie was out of breath and out of shape and she wished she could take notes, but she kept up with the other two.

“Look, I’m checking into this. Don’t worry. I’m sure we can get another social worker in, but may I ask why…” She paused. “Well, why you didn’t take the test. Is there something I should know?”

She saw Jada and Michelle exchange looks. Then Michelle, who had been silent except for her bitch remark spoke. “It’s all my fault. I’m under a lot of stress, too.” The woman looked deeply troubled and for a moment Angie thought she was about to spill her story. Then she watched as Michelle licked her lips and turned her head away. “Anyway, I went to my doctor because I was having anxiety attacks. He prescribed something.”

“Yeah? So what’s wrong with that?” Angie asked.

Michelle flicked a look at Jada, who shrugged. “She’s my lawyer, Mich. I’m telling her everything. And I’m never taking those pills again.”

Angie got worried. Was there some kind of drug problem going on? Oh Christ. Now that she had committed to this case, she’d find out that Jada was all the things Mr. Jackson accused her of.

“Look,” Michelle said, “there’s nothing wrong with them. They were psychotropics. Jada was so crazy from all this that I gave her a couple of my pills.”

“Yeah,” Jada said bitterly. “I was feeling like a psycho, but they sure didn’t make me go to the tropics.”

“The point is,” Michelle said, “she was afraid they might show up in her urine. We don’t even know what’s in them.”

“Well, what are they? Ecstasy?” Angie asked.

“Xanax,” Michelle said, without even a hint of a smile.

“So what’s the big deal?” Angie asked, deeply relieved. “Jada, with what you’ve been through, you probably need some anti-anxiety medication. Best to get a prescription, though.” Angie turned to Michelle. “Can I have some, too?” she joked.

Michelle managed a weak smile. “I felt so guilty. I thought I ruined everything. You don’t think it’s too serious?”

Actually, Angie wasn’t sure, but she shook her head no. “Half the women in America have prescriptions for Xanax or Valium,” she said. “And the other half borrow them from their friends. It’s no big deal.” She paused, vamping for time, and hoped to give Jada some shred of comfort in what sounded like a vat of trouble. “I’m going to try to get another social worker assigned. It won’t eliminate the first home visit, but it will add. And maybe it wasn’t as bad as you thought.”

Jada smiled for the first time that morning. “Do you really think you can get me a different social worker?”

“Look, if I can’t, I’ll certainly speak with Mrs. Monster and see exactly what she’s planning to say.”

“It’s really good of you to do all this,” Jada said. “I mean, a younger woman like you shouldn’t have to be involved in all of this tragedy. You should be optimistic and enjoy your life.”

Angie looked up at Jada and laughed. “Oh yeah,” she said, “let me tell you how optimistic and pleasurable my life is. Let me tell you about my romantic first anniversary.” She launched into the story and both women listened raptly as they walked along. She told them about the “older woman,” the Soprano, and then finding out her friend Lisa
was
the older woman. She told them about the trip to Marblehead—all of it. All except the big secret. She was tempted, but she couldn’t tell them.

“I can’t believe it,” Michelle said when Angela was done.

“I can.” Jada snorted. The two women went on to criticize Reid, ranting on about him, and then they had a few choice words for Lisa.

Angela quickened her steps and marched along beside them. She realized she felt good. Well, if not good, then a little better. It wasn’t just the walk, it was the company. She really liked Jada. Michelle, on the other hand, seemed kind of wimpy and distracted, but she was clearly a good friend to Jada and vice versa. Angie was just grateful that she’d been invited.

They came to the end of a cul-de-sac and began to turn around when Jada stopped. “Mich, aren’t you going to hit the post?” Angie didn’t know what Jada was talking about. She just looked at Michelle, whose head hung down limply until she shook it.

“Michelle, what’s wrong with you?” Jada asked. “You
always
touch the post. Are you mad because of what went down at the bank?” Angie opened her eyes wider, but said nothing. “Or is it the reporters? Are they on you real bad?”

Angie knew a lot was up but decided to just keep her mouth shut. The three women stood there in the cold. The sky had lightened to silver along the eastern horizon, but long shadows still darkened the road. Angie stood very quiet. She could see the moon, a white sliver about to set. She looked at Michelle.

“Everyone in my family is dysfunctional now. Even my dog. He binges when we’re outside and vomits in the house. He eats the neighbors’ trash and ignores his biscuits. Everybody’s life is miserable,” Michelle said. “I didn’t think it was going to be this way. I honestly didn’t. I knew what Clinton did to you, but look at what happened to Angela,” she said.

“And what happened to you,” Jada added gently, and put her gloved hand on Michelle’s thin shoulder. “It’s not your fault.”

Michelle shrugged away and started walking. Angela followed along with Jada.

“Oh yes it is,” Michelle said. “I mean, what if I’ve been stupid? What if I’ve been wrong?” Angie could see tears in Michelle’s blue eyes as she turned to Jada. Her voice dropped to a whisper. “What if Frank is guilty?” she whispered.

Angie still didn’t say a word, but the penny had dropped and she put the pieces together. She’d read the paper and heard her father’s comments. This was the woman from the drug bust down the street, the one who had made headlines. She didn’t move, but for a moment she wondered whether her client was involved in a drug ring. Maybe
that
was why she hadn’t wanted the urine test. Angie thought of what Michael had said, but looking at the two women Angie just knew that wasn’t part of the equation.