“I like your tattoo,” Ben said to Bliss.
“Thanks!” said Bliss, stepping back into plank position.
Susan stepped into the hallway and closed the door behind her. Bennett still sat in the chair, the Portland Monthly open in his lap. Ben and Sara each held on to one of Debbie’s hands. Henry raised an eyebrow.
“Nice lunch?” Susan asked, trying to sound casual.
“Try the smoked salmon salad,” said Debbie. “It’s delicious.”
The hallway was quiet. The only sound was the noise of the cop’s magazine pages turning too fast for him to actually be reading.
“Where are you going?” Henry asked Susan.
Susan was wearing skinny black jeans, a black tank top, and a black belt. Her purse and her shoes were red patent leather. “To work,” she said.
Henry shook his head. “You can’t leave. You’re under protection.”
“I have stories to write,” Susan said. Her voice sounded too desperate, so she tried to rephrase it, make it sound more important. “Journalism. Newspaper journalism.”
“Write in your room,” Henry said. “Where you’re safe.”
Susan glanced back at the closed door that separated them from her naked mother and then back at Henry. “I need to get out of here,” she said between clenched teeth.
Henry sighed. “I’ll talk to Archie.”
Great. Trapped at the Arlington. Gretchen gets out. And Susan gets locked up. That was fair. Susan stole another glance at Bennett. She couldn’t get past Henry. But maybe that guy. “Okay,” she said.
Henry looked at her for a minute, then nodded. He put a hand on Debbie’s lower back and led her and the two kids through the door to Archie’s suite.
“Was that a peace sign?” Susan heard Debbie ask Henry as they disappeared through the door.
CHAPTER
36
Archie held Sara in the crook of his arm on her bed, amid a menagerie of stuffed animals. Henry had brought them from the house and they were wedged in every available space, a rolling topography of faux fur, paws, and tails. His body felt light and relaxed from the pills and it was all he could do not to doze off next to her.
“Read it again,” she said.
He had just finished reading Sara the Winnie-the-Pooh book Now We Are Six.
“It’s time for bed,” he said.
Ben was in the next bed, reading a Lemony Snicket book.
Archie kissed Sara on the head. Her hair was the same shade as her mother’s. He loved the smell of her and he kept his face against her head for a moment, savoring it. He couldn’t remember the last time Ben had let him kiss him good night.
“I love you,” he said. There were moments, like this, when he was perfectly, beautifully happy. And he still didn’t know if it was real. Or the Vicodin.
He put his feet on the floor and searched for his shoes.
Sara’s flat little hand gripped his arm. “Stay with me,” she said. “Until I go to sleep.”
“Sure,” Archie said, happy to stretch the moment out. He leaned back on the bed, crossed his feet, and put his arm back around his daughter. A plastic nose from some buried stuffed animal pressed against his back.
Her eyes didn’t waver from him as she fell asleep, her eyelids growing heavier and heavier until, with a sliver of white, she finally gave it up.
Archie waited another few minutes and then disentangled himself and put on his shoes.
Ben put his Lemony Snicket on the bedside table and rolled over so he wasn’t facing Archie. “Good night, Dad,” he said to the wall.
“Good night,” said Archie.
He expected to find Henry and Debbie where he’d left them in the suite’s main room, but they weren’t there.
“I’m in here,” Debbie called from the bedroom.
She appeared in the doorway, clad in the white Arlington robe she’d taken to wearing. Archie bet if they ever moved back home, the robe would find its way into her suitcase.
“When did Henry leave?” he asked, coming into the room and sitting on the bed.
She walked into the bathroom and started brushing her teeth. “Fifteen minutes ago,” she said, the toothbrush in her mouth. She scooped some water into her mouth, rinsed, and spat in the sink. “He said to say goodbye.”
He watched her reflection from where he sat. She was beautiful. Sara would be beautiful like that, too, when she grew up. The brown hair, the freckles, the watchful eyes. Debbie rinsed her toothbrush and dried her mouth with a white hand towel. Then she saw him watching her and turned around, resting her back against the sink.
“What?” she said.
“Nothing.”
“I’m glad you’re all right,” she said softly.
Archie shrugged. “Just stress, I guess,” he said.
“You scared me,” she said.
“I’m sorry,” he said. He finished the sentence in his head: For everything.
She gave him one of her concerned crooked smiles. Debbie would survive him. It would be hard. But she would be okay. The kids would be okay. They would probably be better off in the long run.