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June 3-June 9, 2007
June 3, 2007
“So thanks for coming to meet my grandma,” I say as Teri and I set foot outside of Grandma's apartment building. “I know it's not exactly the most exciting climax to our visit.”
“No, it was nice,” Teri says. “I know you care about her a lot, so it was nice to finally meet her.”
I smile, glancing at her before taking her hand. Silly as it is, one of my regrets about Emma or Veronica was that they never got to meet my grandmother. After all, she was one of the most important women in my life when I was growing up. I feel kind of bad that she's so removed from my life now—that she's never seen Taylor, or any of the people I know there.
It's nice that Teri wanted to meet her.
It's a few minutes after four now, and it's a bright, sunny day. I think about all of the other things I'd like to do with Teri before she goes—just go for a walk or a drive, or maybe take her by the old park where we play basketball.
Time's running short, though. We drove to my grandmother's building separately, Teri's bag in her trunk so she could hit the road right from here.
“So you're sure I can't convince you to stay for dinner?” I ask.
“Tempting,” she says, looking down. “But I've got a long drive ahead of me, and I've got work tomorrow.”
“Yeah,” I nod, “I know. It's just hard to let you go.”
Teri looks up at me and smiles, moving closer and wrapping an arm around waist. I put my arm over her shoulder. “We'll hang out again soon.”
“Yeah.”
“And I like it here. Maybe I can come again in a few weeks.” She rubs her head against my chest. “Maybe I can get a couple days off to stay here when Joe and Jenny are out of school.”
I smile at the idea of Teri trying to coexist with her little brother and sister over their summer vacation, after how miserable she was during winter break.
I move my hand up and down her bare arm. “And you know you're always welcome.”
“I know,” she says as we stop by the cars. She wraps both arms around me, hugging me close as we prepare to say goodbye.June 4, 2007
“And how long have you been together?” Natalie asks, opening up an envelope at her desk.
I like talking about Teri, but I can't help feeling it's a little awkward to talk about her with my father's secretary in the office. “About half a year now. We got together on New Year's.”
“Well that's great.”
“Of course it was in the works before then,” Dad chimes in, reading the day's paper, as he does each morning, dissecting every bit of news on Darryl and the murder. He looks up from the paper. “When I went to visit Preston at the hospital last winter, she was there every day, looking after him, and whatnot.”
“That's good,” Natalie says. “It's important to be with someone who really cares about you like that.”
I nod, again not feeling entirely comfortable. “So anything new in the paper today?”
“Ah, same old,” Dad says, shutting it, and setting it down on my little card table. “Mostly just speculation. They're just waiting for the trial to start now so they'll really have something to report on.” He closes the paper, setting it down on Natalie's desk. He takes a couple steps toward his personal office, then paces back into the center of our little reception area. “ Preston , what do you think of Valerie?”
“What do you mean?” I worry I'm going to blush.
“There's just something about her—her and that boyfriend of hers, Adam.” Dad shakes his head, his hands on his hips, looking out the window beside me. “I think they're holding something back. I think they know more than they're letting on about.”
“Well what makes you say that?” I ask, relieved that we have made the transition to just talking about business.
“She just seems a little too nervous—like she's trying to say the right thing. And she's not as sad I'd think she was going to be. And Adam—he's very protective.”
“And you're sure that's not just how they are usually,” I say. “I mean, I'm sure Valerie's broken up about her mom, and what's going on with her dad. But besides that, every minute, she's got the police and the media in her face—”
“And the poor girl's probably on her last nerve,” Dad says, with a nod. “And I'm only adding to it.”
A cloud passes over the window, and it gets a little darker in the office. It rolls on past in a minute.
“I wanted to run something by you, Preston ,” Dad goes on, still looking out.
“Shoot.”
“I want to get a clearer idea of what's going on in Valerie's head. And I'd like to ask you get that information.”
“And how am I supposed to do that?”
Dad looks down to me at last. “I want you to hang out with her a little—socially. Make her comfortable. You're the same age as her, so that's going to make her more at ease with you from the start,” he says. “And then she'll be more likely to open up with you—talk to you like she would one of her friends, and we'll get to the heart of things.”
“And if there is no heart of things?”
Dad shrugs. “Then at least we can't say we didn't try.” He grabs a post-it note and pen from Natalie's desk, and jots something down, before handing it off to me. “This is the address for the gift shop where she works. You can start there.”June 5, 2007
“Eh, I don't see what the problem is with hanging out with a pretty girl as a part of your job,” Matt says, kneeling and squinting at the surface of his kitchen table before deciding to spray more cleaner on it.
“And I don't see the problem with you having Julie work with you at camp this summer.”
“It just complicates things,” he says, wiping down the table with his rag. “I mean, life at camp is carefree. Play with kids all day, fuck around with girls all night—no attachment. But Julie—she makes it more serious.”
“And this is a chance to spend some time with her—the girl you said you thought you were in love with.”
“Did I really say that?”
I raise my eyebrows.
“Whatever.” He looks over the table again, then puts his mom's centerpiece back on it—a plastic horse and carriage. “So don't get off topic. You and Valerie—what are you worried about?”
“It's just that Teri was just here.”
“And?”
“Look, I just kind of worry about how I feel around Valerie.”
“You go to college. You know a lot of pretty girls,” Matt says, tossing the paper towel toward a garbage bin, falling just short of it. “What does it matter?”
“It's just, there's something about her. And it worries me because she kind of reminds me of Veronica.”
“How so?”
I look down. The dark wood of the kitchen table shines enough that I can actually see myself in it. “Sort of in that, I was with Emma when I started falling for Veronica way.”
“And now you're with Teri and—”
“Yeah,” I cut him off, not wanting to even hear the end of that sentence. “Or not. I mean, I don't think we're on track for anything to happen. She has a boyfriend. I have a girlfriend. And I care about Teri a lot. And besides that, I don't even know if she gives me a second thought.”
“But you do give her a second thought.”
“Maybe a third and a fourth thought too.”
“Right.”
“So,” I go on, “I don't think these thoughts would amount to anything if I just let them settle. But now my dad's telling me to go out of my way to spend time with her, and get close to her.” I shake my head. “Whatever, it'll be all right.”
Matt laughs for a second then turns away, opening a cupboard and putting the cleaner away.
“What?”
“Nothing,” Matt says, fighting back a smile. “Nothing at all.”June 6, 2007
Valerie has her fingers tucked into her palms, squeezing the top of her skirt in little fists. Her knuckles turn whiter than the rest of her skin as the proceedings go on. She alternates between looking down at her hands and watching her father, as he sits in front of us.
Darryl sits with no expression on his face, still as a statue. I wonder what's going through his mind. He's already lost his wife. Now he's on the cusp of losing the rest of his life to prison—saying goodbye to his daughter, his home, his work, his reputation. He looks older than I can ever remember seeing him. In my youngest days, I remember his hair being brown, and just speckled with gray. Now, it's all silver. He still has a muscular, athletic build, especially for a man his age, but wrinkles are just beginning to show up on his face.
My dad sits beside him, tapping his fingers on the table where they wait for the judge to take his place. He's well aware that this is just the first step in a long journey.
I feel something brush against my shoulder. I turn to find it's just incidental contact from Adam's hand as he put his arm over Valerie's shoulders.
Soon we all stand, as the judge, a man older and smaller than Darryl, takes his place. Moments later, only my father is standing, before he speaks the words we've all come to hear.
"Not guilty," he says.
The judge nods. There will be no bail. The trial will follow.
Valerie lets her skirt go, and her head tips to one side—away from me, and onto Adam's shoulder.
June 7, 2007
"Hello?"
Just hearing Valerie's voice across the line makes my heart beat a little bit faster. I feel pretty guilty about that.
"Hey, Valerie. This is Preston —John Burns' son."
She sort of giggles. "I know who you are, Preston . How are you?"
"Not bad at all. And you?"
"I'm good."
"Well good." We each laugh a little, and it's kind of awkward. The whole situation is pretty awkward. Here I am, pacing my kitchen floor, trying to figure out how to ask Valerie out to do something for the sake of my father—for the sake of her father really. And all the while, I'm trying to make it sound like I'm not just asking for a date, since, of course, we're both in relationships. And maybe it wouldn't be that awkward to begin with, if I wasn't attracted to her. I scratch the back of my head. "So listen, I was thinking you might like a chance to take your mind off of the case and everything. I wanted to know if you'd like to grab ice cream with me sometime."
There's a quiet on the line, before she answers, "Yeah, I think that would be a lot of fun. I'm busy the next few nights, but maybe next week sometime?"
“Yeah, whatever works for you,” I say, still trying to stay casual, still weighing every factor in my mind.
I hear a voice in the background. I can't quite make it out, but it's definitely male. I figure it's probably Adam.
“Well, hey, I've actually gotta run for now,” Valerie says, “but we'll catch up sometime soon, all right?”
“Yeah that sounds good.”
“Great talk to you later.”
“Yeah, I'll—” I trail off as she hangs up the phone. Without having really established anything, I can't help but wonder if I made any progress at all with this call. I resign myself to the idea that most of what I was worried about was just in my head anyway, and let it go, snapping shut my cell phone, and tossing it down on the kitchen table.June 8, 2007
It has been raining all day today. I put on my spring jacket in preparation to leave the office at 5, before deciding my work isn't quite done.
I knock on my father's office door, which is already partially open.
“Come in,” he calls from inside.
I push it the rest of the way open, mentally going over what I want to say, and how I want to say it again.
“ Preston , what's up?” Dad asks, setting down a sheet of his legal pad, and turning his attention to me.
“Well, I wanted to talk to you about that thing we were talking about a few days ago—about me hanging out with Valerie.” In part, I'm reluctant to say anything because of how awkward it would be to explain my whole predicament to my father. Beyond that, I'm a little worried about disappointing him. It's become apparent over the last few weeks that he doesn't really need me in the office. Getting close to Valerie is the one task he has assigned me that I really am in a unique position to handle, and I feel bad saying that I can't even do that.
“Yeah, what about, Preston ?”
“I was just thinking it might not be the best idea. I mean, I sort of feel like it's mixing personal and professional. And I don't know if it's ethical to try to build a personal relationship for something like this.”
Dad nods. “You like Valerie don't you?”
“Hmm?”
He smiles. “Valerie's a pretty girl. I remember you had a little crush on her when you were a kid. And you still do.”
I'm probably blushing. Either way, I'm feeling warm from embarrassment, not to mention the jacket I'm still wearing in the hot, dry indoors.
“I'm not trying to embarrass you,” Dad says, raising a hand. “My point is that you care about her in a sincere sort of way that me, or the police, or anyone else couldn't reproduce. You actually care about her, and so you have a natural way to get close to her—not necessarily to clear her father's name, or to catch someone else, but just to get at whatever she's holding back.” He leans back in his chair, scratching his chest for a second. “I know this isn't an easy thing I'm asking you to do. But it is important. Do you understand that?”
I do understand.
Leaving the office, I plot out when I will see Valerie next.June 9, 2007
“So I'll be getting into town on the sixteenth,” Mom says over the phone. “That'll be a day before the rehearsal dinner.”
“Gotcha,” I say, looking through the kitchen cupboards for something to snack on. While my brother and his fiancée are in California , and the wedding is set here Shermantown, my mother is pulling all of the strings, planning the whole affair from Florida .
“And what I'll need for you to do is make absolutely certain that you and your father pick up your tuxedos from Formal Wearhouse a few days in advance. And try the suits on to make sure they fit.”
“Right.”
“I'm serious, Preston . You know your father's not going to remember, and we can't have either of you not matching everyone else.”
“I get it, Mom.”
“All right. I'm sorry for getting on you about this, but we just have to make sure this is perfect. After all, it's one of the biggest days of your brother's life.”
I think of how it feels like more of one of the biggest days in my mother's life, and how Ray wouldn't care a bit if the suits Dad and I wore didn't match everyone else's. He'll just care that we're all there.
I suppose it's nice that Mom cares so much about the rest. I can't help feeling a little annoyed, though, at the portrait of Dad that she's painting, as absent-minded, or uncaring. It seems that preparing for a murder trial would be a legitimate excuse to not be focused on a wedding.
But then, I suppose Mom knows that Dad would be caught up in that sort of thing—that his work always provides one distraction or another. I guess that's all she really means by it.
“Don't worry about a thing,” I say. “We'll stay on top of it.”