And that was how the two parted—Karen feeling unexpectedly well disposed to her former foe and, what’s more, tickled by the news that her donation had apparently meant so much. At the same time, she despaired to think of Jayyden, whether or not he was guilty of arson, being pushed to the even more distant margins of society. She imagined him in a tiny gray room with no windows and a metal bed that had been nailed to the ground so there was no chance of using any part of it as a weapon. She wondered if he ever thought about Ruby—and if she or Ruby would ever see him again.
She also felt newly angered about Winners Circle’s upcoming co-location and couldn’t resist sending a quick message to Clay.
FYI—Ruby’s school planning guerrilla attack on Winners Circle co-locators. Needless to say, I’ve volunteered my services!
Clay immediately wrote back:
So if a stink bomb is found in the robotics room, I will blame you. Greetings from Malaysia. xoxoxo
That he was so consistently good-natured about Karen’s disapproval of the main charity he supported was almost unnerving to Karen. She wrote back,
I beg to differ! You will have only yourself to blame.
Clay wrote back:
The only thing I blame myself for is not holding you hostage at the Mandarin.
Karen felt her knees buckling beneath his imagined weight. How would she ever make the feeling go away? Was she really disappearing with him for the weekend? And how long could she keep it all a secret from Matt?
That evening, Ruby announced that Charlotte Bordwell hadn’t invited her to her ninth birthday party. Ruby had learned about the snub when she heard other girls in her class talking about how excited they were to be going to the American Girl Place Café to celebrate.
“I’m sorry, sweetie,” said Karen, trying to sound stolid. “That’s disappointing. But it’s almost the end of third grade. You’ll have all new kids in your class next year—and new friends too, I’m sure.”
But she was no longer sure of anything. Having temporarily relinquished any hostile feelings toward the Bordwells in favor of sympathy for Nathaniel’s disability, Karen once again felt mounting fury at the family. Even if Charlotte didn’t consider Ruby among her nearest and dearest, Susan could have insisted that her daughter invite Ruby anyway, if only as a courtesy to Karen and because Ruby was the new girl. But Susan had apparently insisted on nothing of the kind.
“I hate my new school,” said Ruby. “I want to go back to Betts.”
“Oh, sweetie,” said Karen, as a tiny sliver of her heart broke off and fell to the ground. At least, that was how it felt.
On Monday morning, after dropping Ruby in her classroom, Karen once again let herself into the PTA office. She placed a chair in front of the door to prevent anyone from walking in and surprising her. Then she pulled out the PTA checkbook. The baby-blue background looked so anodyne compared to the rage and recklessness that simmered inside her. Fuck all of them, she thought. Karen’s anger had come to her late in life. But now that it had arrived, it showed no signs of abating. In her most elegant cursive, she wrote another check, this time for five grand. It was a slightly larger sum than she’d withdrawn before, yet, to her mind, it was still not large enough to provoke any raised eyebrows. Even so, this time it seemed safest to make no mention of it in the PTA ledger. If someone noticed the discrepancy, Karen figured she could always chalk it up to an accounting error. To give the check an air of officialdom, she took special care with her signature, producing a deeply slanted autograph worthy of the Declaration of Independence. She put the check in her wallet and the checkbook back in the drawer.
On her way out of the office, her eyes momentarily locked with the school’s music teacher’s, who was known as Mr. Z. (Like many schoolteachers with long Greek or Polish last names, he’d shortened his to a single letter.) But if he harbored any suspicions about how frequently Karen had been visiting the PTA office, he didn’t show it. Instead, he smiled broadly, as if in recognition of her selfless contributions to the school. And Karen smiled back, for a brief moment entertaining the idea that her appropriation of Mather PTA funds was the most selfless act of her entire nonprofit career.
Once again, her theft was met with silence. Little wonder that Karen had begun to feel as if she could get away with anything—even running off for the weekend with a man who wasn’t her husband.
On Wednesday evening, she told Matt she had to travel again for work that weekend and would he mind covering on the home front?
“Oh, wow—I wish you’d told me earlier,” he said.
“Sorry,” she said, trying to sound blasé. “It’s this stupid donor conference in Miami. Molly can’t make it suddenly, and she wants me to fill in. I would have told you earlier, but I didn’t know I was going. Anyway, I need to leave on Friday afternoon. Oh, and I’m staying at the Ritz-Carlton in Key Biscayne if you need to reach me for any reason.” Karen marveled at how easily the lies spilled out of her these days…
But Matt sounded less than convinced. Before he spoke, she saw him search her face. Karen’s heart began to beat so fast that she wondered if Matt could hear it too. “All right, well.” He paused, grimaced. “I was supposed to see Rick and those other guys on Friday night. But if your attendance is really necessary at this suddenly announced, urgently important conference,” he said mockingly, “I guess I’ll have to reschedule.” Rick was one of Matt’s friends from Tacoma.
“Well, if I hadn’t been going, were you going to tell me about your weekend plans?” Karen snapped back. “Or was I just supposed to be there on the weekend to watch Ruby like I always am?” Despite the skein of lies she was in the process of weaving, she felt irritated again. It was the principle of it—the way Matt felt free to come and go without consulting her first and always with the assumption that she would be there. As if she were a sofa or some other heavy and immovable piece of furniture. Or maybe Karen was only picking a fight to create more distance between them so she could further justify her betrayal.
“Karen—you’re getting mad at me and you’re the one announcing, with one day’s notice, that you’re leaving town?” Matt said incredulously.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier,” said Karen, trying to regain her composure. “I would have if I’d known.”
Matt didn’t speak for a few moments. Then he said, pointedly, “So when exactly are you leaving again for your weekend away in Miami?”
“Friday after lunch. So you’ll have to pick Rubes up from school, if you don’t mind. Or I can get in touch with Ashley and see if she can do it. Whatever you prefer. I should be home by Sunday night.”
“Fine,” he said bitterly as he walked away.
“I appreciate you covering,” Karen called after him.
“It’s fine,” he muttered again. But it didn’t seem fine at all.