By telling Nate about Jimmy, she’d all but told Nate she believed him. Maybe she did; it was hard to say in the face of so much evidence. She felt the pulse of truth in her heart. Why was he in the woods? Even as she formed the question in her mind, she knew the answer. When Nate was confused or lost or needed time to himself, he took to the trails. He hiked. She never knew him to be more lost than he was right now.
Was she making excuses? Maybe.
His replies were noncommittal and she remembered getting mad about it. Why does Bridget care more about your innocence than you do? He hadn’t written back other than to say he missed her. Her words were jumbled, misspelled. He even asked her once, Are you drunk?
She’d answered him no, but it was a lie, because sometimes the lie was easier.
?????
By the afternoon, she felt better, fresh, showered and clean, teeth brushed. The only remnant of her night was the disjointed text conversation with Nate.
Alecia reviewed it again, decided she hadn’t said anything so awful after all. She didn’t know what she wanted, but she didn’t want Nate to show up on their doorstep, his bag in hand. She wasn’t there yet.
Still, Jimmy was back now, which was a weird coincidence. And Nate saw him, too; at least he said he did.
The doorbell rang and Alecia answered it.
Bridget held a chocolate cheesecake. “It’s all they had. It’s a bit much for the heat.” After a pause, she asked, “Can I come in?”
Alecia felt a twinge of annoyance, but couldn’t pinpoint why.
In the kitchen, she made tea, Gabe at her hip, tugging on her shirt for one thing or another, pointing at water, then cereal. She bagged Kix for him as Bridget watched.
Bridget was good with Gabe, got down on his level, talked to him like a person. Never cared when he didn’t talk back, or when he answered her not so much with words but with grunts or pointing. Sometimes he replied, a yes or a no, what are you drinking, Gabe? Water, the easy questions.
But she didn’t do that today, she didn’t talk to Gabe, just stood in the kitchen holding a cheesecake too heavy for the hot day and shifting in her clogs.
“How was school?” Alecia asked, finally rescuing her, taking the cake from her hands and pulling a knife from the woodblock on the counter.
“Oh, you know, weird. The teachers are weird, everyone whispers. Everything is quiet.” Bridget settled onto a stool, her mouth twisted in a grimace like she might cry. “I want to show you this.” She pulled out her phone and flicked the screen with her fingers, her hands shaky as she slid the device across the counter. Alecia picked it up, the video already playing, loud shaky music, kids screeching in the background, a deep voice behind the camera.
“What is this?”
“A video of a party. Just watch.”
The image of a girl, sprawled on the bed, pale flesh flashing, and Alecia drew a breath. “Why are you showing me this?” But Bridget didn’t answer and she saw the hand, a thick scar across the top reach out and jostle the girl’s breast.
“That’s Lucia?” Alecia asked, her tongue hating the taste of her name.
“Yes.”
“So why are you showing me this?” Alecia turned her head, handed back the phone. “This only proves what we know. She gets drunk at a party, films herself having sex. Seems like the kind of girl who would sleep with a teacher, or maybe sleep with a teacher, I don’t know.”
What Alecia really wanted to say was that no one could compete with the young, tight body of an eighteen-year-old, her belly flat and rippled in the right places, not the wrong ones. Her breasts high and perched, milky white, in lace, tumbling out over the top the exact right way, not in a jiggling, wobbling way. That she could understand why Nate would sleep with her, reach for her, that red mouth on his mouth, his neck, his body. She could almost see it, watching that video.
“You’re missing the point, she’s unconscious.” Bridget snapped the phone back, exasperated. “She didn’t have sex or sleep with anyone. She was raped here.”
“Am I supposed to feel sorry for her?” Alecia gathered her hair behind her head, fanning her neck with her ponytail. God it was so hot.
“As a woman? Yes. I’d think so.”
“As a woman whose husband maybe slept with her?” Alecia shot back.
“I don’t think so,” Bridget said, “I really don’t.”
“His hat was found in that woods. He went after her. Why would he go after her if he wasn’t trying to . . . I don’t know. Silence her. Seduce her. Something.”
“I can’t answer that, but I know —”
“That’s the thing, you don’t actually know anything. No one does!” Alecia had had enough. She was so tired of fighting the undercurrent of their friendship, Bridget firmly taking Nate’s side. “What about the Instagram? The credit card receipt? Twice, apparently? The reporter who saw them making out in the parking lot.”
“They weren’t making out. He hugged her,” Bridget protested, but feebly, flimsily, the words sliding around between them. “She’s been fucked with at school, and I think Nate knew it, but he won’t answer my calls. I’m going over there after this to talk to him.”
“Why do you defend him so much? Like you don’t even think of taking my side?” The whine came out, petulant, and Alecia could hear it but couldn’t stop it. Her voice edged up, she felt the hysteria rising in her chest.
“I just want the truth, Alecia. It’s not about sides.” Bridget’s voice raised to match hers. “God, you’re so stubborn. Just see it for a moment. What if Nate is telling the truth, that he was trying to help her?”
“He saved that picture!” Alecia shouted. “I can’t ignore that. And listen, I’m here in this goddamn house every single day of my life. He’s out there, cavorting with his students, following them on Facebook and Instagram and monitoring their every move, like he’s got some kind of savior complex. I just can’t take it! Why doesn’t he care more about us, this family, than he does some little white-haired weirdo sex bomb on Instagram?”
“He does care about you, Alecia. But you are so wrapped up in Gabe, it’s all you care about. For two seconds, can you just think about Nate?”
“Why? He doesn’t think about us. You know what? I saw Jennifer Lawson at the Stop & Shop the other day and you know what she said? That Nate kissed her at the Tempest Christmas party.”
“The party three years ago?” Bridget held her palm to her forward, eyes tipped toward the ceiling, and laughed. “Three years ago?”
“So what? We were married three years ago! What difference does it make? I’ve heard this kind of thing before. The student at the Quarry Bar, what was her name? The night Gabe took a header down the steps. I couldn’t get in touch with him. My point is, we are not his priority. I have no reason to believe him.” She shook her head, back and forth, back and forth. “None.”
“Jennifer Lawson kissed him.” Bridget stood, slapped her palms on the island, her voice a screech. She was practically yelling.
“Why, Bridget, tell me why? Why does the whole world throw themselves at my husband? And I’m supposed to believe he’s an innocent bystander? I can’t. I can’t do it.”
Bridget sat, deflated. She shook her head, cupped her chin in her palm. Alecia felt the burn of tears behind her eyelids, threatening to spill over. She was the monster now?