“It’s just that people are already talking about what happened. I guess I didn’t expect that word would spread so fast,” she tried to explain to Melissa, and for the first time she saw herself the way other people might see her. She felt ashamed and (somehow) inadequate, which brought back all of the anger she had been feeling earlier that day in the guest bedroom at her mother’s. Was she not pretty enough for Richard? Not sexy enough? Not…erotic enough? Did her husband need more? Want more? Did he want something—someone—else?
She was, she realized, embarrassed. That was the word. She was…embarrassed. How could he be so cavalier with their lives? How could he go and risk ruining all they had built?
Suddenly she wasn’t sure she could bear to be around him after what he had done to their marriage. To their family. At least she couldn’t bear to be around him right now. Certainly not tonight.
Earlier today she had wanted stability for Melissa. That had been her goal. She wanted this nightmare behind them, and until it was she wanted to minimize the stress on her child. She and Richard had never fought in front of the girl, and she had hoped—expected, in fact—that they never would. But what sort of role model was she for her daughter if she seemed to condone this sort of behavior from her husband? If she didn’t, as her brother would have said, stand up for herself?
“The story is on TV?” her daughter was asking.
“Yes, it is.”
Melissa seemed to think about this for a second and nodded. Then she looked down at her own copy of the Playbill. Kristin realized that the girl was afraid to look at her.
“But it’ll be okay, sweetie,” she said, stroking the side of the child’s head, running her fingernails gently behind her ear. She could feel own her heart racing and took a breath. She had come to a decision: Richard would have to spend tonight at a hotel. Maybe tomorrow night, too. “It really will,” she added.
She didn’t try to smile when she spoke; that would have been impossible. She knew the fear she was feeling for the child was unreasonable, but she was unable to reassure herself when she thought about boys and men and the images they had of women in the digital age. Men were predators, and this little girl beside her—her child—was just too beautiful.
…
When Richard returned to his mother-in-law’s apartment, he presented her with the flowers he had bought, and then together they went to the kitchen to put them in a large vase. The girls weren’t back yet from the theater. It was awkward, but Richard took some comfort in his mother-in-law’s absolutely remarkable ability to steer clear of unpleasant subjects. She asked him about work. She had him show her the things he had bought for his family, the reasons why he had gone on the shopping spree conveniently forgotten. Or, more precisely, avoided. It was impossible to forget what had occurred last night.
Just as he was starting to put the gifts back in their boxes, Philip phoned yet again. This time Richard took the call, disappearing into the guest bedroom so they could speak in private. He didn’t apologize for not picking up earlier, but he began by explaining that he had been meeting with a lawyer and then had gone shopping for Kristin and Melissa. He added that the police had kicked him and his family out of his house.
“Well, thank God you’re not home,” his younger brother said. “Consider yourself lucky.”
“Why?”
“Your place is under siege.”
Though he was alone, Richard found himself nodding. He thought of the TV news trucks on the street at the edge of his driveway.
“My building has a doorman and I’m on the fourth floor, so they can’t get to me. But I’m also not going out. No fucking way. I will live on Chinese delivery and whatever the hell I have in my refrigerator. Still, I’m going to have to tip Sean big-time come Christmas,” Philip said, referring to the fellow who was on duty in the lobby that afternoon. His brother’s apartment was just off the East River promenade in Brooklyn Heights.
“How many reporters are downstairs?”
“According to Sean, five. At least it was five the last time he checked. Three men, two women. Some TV, some print.”
“How is Nicole?”
“No idea.”
“What do you mean, no idea?”
“She’s not talking to me. She’s holed up in her studio.”
“Well, there’s your answer. That’s how she’s doing.”
“I wouldn’t say she is overreacting exactly, but it would be nice if she saw our side.”
“Our side?”
“We could have been killed! My God, two people were murdered in cold blood in your house. How were we supposed to know the strippers were going to go postal? It was awful.”
“They weren’t strippers.”
“Fine. It wasn’t our fault that the entertainment went postal. It was still awful. And it was supposed to be just a regular old bachelor party. My bachelor party. A guy’s got a right to a bachelor party, doesn’t he?”
“Philip, it wasn’t a bachelor party. It was a…”
“It was a what?”
“It was a freaking disaster is what it was.”
“But it wasn’t my fault. It wasn’t your fault.”
“Philip, not trying to be judgmental here—”
“Then don’t.”
“Look, you fucked one of the girls.”
“You did, too.”