The One That Got Away (9 page)

When Tony had gathered his will and returned his eyes to hers, Zora's whispered, nearly silent words carried the precious force of a kid sister's love. “Be careful.”

A
s Tony and Audrey raced toward the school cafeteria, she sighed playfully. “I'm curious to see what role your boys are playing in this.”

The “boys” were Glenn and Ben Hampton, a pair of twin brothers in Rowan's junior class. During his first week at work, Audrey had introduced Tony to the Hamptons while giving him a tour of the school. It hadn't exactly been a prearranged introduction; the first time Tony laid eyes on Glenn, he'd had a long, muscled forearm wrapped around a bigger kid's neck.

It wasn't as bad as it had first seemed. Once Glenn and the others in the fight were separated, and Ben and other witnesses offered their testimonies, Audrey was convinced that Glenn's role was a peaceful one. Apparently he'd held the kid in place to keep him from getting into the thick of things and really hurting someone.

Regardless, Audrey took advantage of the moment to convince Tony to serve as the twins' informal mentor. Although she considered them two of her “neatest” kids—Glenn was a star wide receiver for Rowan's football team and Ben was both a local sprinting champ and a talented poet—they were short on male role models. Their mother, Evelyn, a former plant employee for
Chrysler, had seen better days. As Glenn liked to say, she raised them “when she felt like it.” The boys' motivation seemingly came from an older aunt who was in poor health, but with no strong man around, Audrey summarized their dating habits as “canine” at best.

Smiling despite himself at the thought of his growing friendship with the two young bucks, Tony tried to deny the pain in his left leg, keeping close step with Audrey as they pushed open the cafeteria doors. “Well, let's see whether my boys are even in here.”

As they came to a stop at the top of the steps leading down into Rowan's airy, state-of-the-art cafeteria, Tony and Audrey were surprised to find a peaceful situation. A dozen people remained—four security guards, two teachers, and six students. Five of the kids were males, all of whom sat before a scolding guard or teacher. The one female student, a cinnamon brown–skinned girl with long legs running out from her navy Rowan skirt uniform, sat alone nibbling on a fingernail. Audrey took the girl in with stern but sentimental eyes.

“Well, there's the first bad habit of hers that I'll break,” she said. “Mr. Gooden, see to the twins, will you? If they were in the midst of whatever scuffle occurred, just leave them with one of the security officers. They'll bring them up to my office and I'll handle them as necessary.”

Dressed in their Rowan uniforms of white rugby shirts, navy cotton slacks, and solid white gym shoes, Ben and Glenn sat speaking in hushed tones to Monty, the tall, beer-bellied officer standing over them. As Tony approached the twins, he was struck by the physical blessings that seemed a small compensation for their family challenges. With clear almond complexions, muscled, sinewy builds, and sharp, tight facial features, the twins could have been the estranged fruit of a secret rendezvous between Denzel and Whitney. Identical, their only distinguishing features were their hairstyles; Ben's low, sculpted fade was the antidote to the bushy jungle sitting atop Glenn's head.

“What's going on, Monty?” Tony shook hands vigorously with the security guard, whom he'd met once before in passing.
Slapping the big man's back, he glanced at the twins with playful disdain. “What've they gone and done now?”

“Oh, you know them well enough by now,” Monty replied, showing his every tooth as his belly vibrated with laughter. “Ole Glenn here especially got himself a hero complex. Can't just let stuff
be,
know what I mean?”

“Mr. G,” Glenn said, his voice full of volume, his head cocked playfully to the side. “All I did was tell Billy over there to leave the new girl alone, give her some space, nah mean?”

Tony leaned against the twins' table, crossing his arms. “In clear, concise English, Glenn.”

“Come on, sir.” Glenn smiled, clearly both embarrassed and pleased at the attention Tony paid to his grammar. “All I was saying is, Billy's been following that girl through the halls all day, then he sat by her during your sister's presentation today. He was on her, too. Breathing all into her face, putting his funky arm around her.”

“Okay,” Tony replied, nodding before turning toward Ben, who sat back in his chair with his legs crossed and his lips pursed. “Take it from there, Ben. What did your brother do to diffuse the situation, cool things out?”

Ben fought a grin, but got his response out. “I think his exact words to Billy, before the big ox took a swing at him, were, ‘Even if she was feeling you, it ain't like you could handle it anyway.' Things were pretty much downhill from there, sir.”

Sighing, Tony looked over his shoulder to an adjacent table where the student who had to be Billy sat with a bag of ice pressed against his cheek. The security officer standing over him gestured wildly, delivering a blistering lecture. Turning back toward Glenn, Tony asked, “Finish the story yourself, now.”

“He took a
swing
and a
miss,
” Glenn said, as if imitating an announcer at a baseball game. “I ducked once, twice, then three times, Mr. G, before defending myself. You want me to be a punk?”

“I saw it,” Monty said, clamping a hand to Glenn's shoulder. “Glenn was actually in the right. He gave Billy several chances to
walk away, let things end peacefully. Poor Billy, though, his rage had him open like a bull chasing a matador. Didn't even see that knockout punch coming.”

Suddenly aware of his comparative frailty, Tony looked at his mentee with new eyes. “You did that to him with a single punch?”

Before Glenn could answer, Audrey materialized in their midst, the striking new female student now at her side. “Okay, I've heard everything. Sounds like you two are in the clear. One thing.” She turned to the girl, whose auburn-highlighted hair was sculpted into a pageboy. “This young lady wanted to tell you both something.”

As the girl, who was nearly as tall as Audrey, glanced from one twin to the other, Tony felt his nostrils flare suddenly.
Something . . . familiar.
“You both looked out for me,” she said, a welcoming smile on her face. “You all didn't have to do that, it was way cool of you.”

“This is important,” Audrey said. “Whenever a young brother or sister goes out of their way to help you or affirm your worth, you should give them their just due, right? I'm proud of you two.”

“Hey, it's nothing but a thing,” Glenn replied, a warm and inviting smile softening his features. He trained his gaze on the young lady. “I hear your name's Dawn,” he said, snapping his neck back coolly. “I'm Glenn. Number forty-two on the field, number one everywhere else.”

Dawn didn't smile back, just lifted her gold necklace to her mouth and began fiddling with it. “I know who you are,” she said.

“Move it along, then,” Audrey said, clearly realizing like Tony that things had crossed over from sweet affirmations to naked hormones. “I'll take Dawn to her next class, and let Mr. Gooden see you two to yours.”

“Let's move, young cats,” Tony said, turning both twins around before they could ogle Dawn—and maybe Audrey too, for all he could tell—any longer.

“Fine with me,” Glenn replied, chuckling and tapping Ben's shoulder. “Class is gonna fly by for me now. I'll be counting the minutes till I can step to Dawn properly. That's mine, dog.”

Laughing, Tony shoved the twins forward. “Glenn, quit while you're ahead. She's a young lady, not a possession for you to claim. You're sounding like Billy already.”

Ben turned back toward Tony, a playful grin on his face. “Oh, so you've never said that exact same phrase about a honey, Mr. G?”

“In our short time together, what have I taught you boys if nothing else?” Tony grabbed a hunk of each one's shirt, shuffling them forward as they neared the steps leading back toward the hallway. “Do as I say, not as I do.”

The thought did cross his mind; it already had the second his nostrils first flared.
Serena's daughter was named Dawn.
He shrugged it off, convinced it was simply proof of the work he'd left undone. Serena hadn't called him since that one phone conversation, hadn't contacted Larry Whitaker about the finance director position, hadn't so much as bothered to acknowledge Tony's existence. She was fighting her feelings, but Tony was confident she couldn't stay away forever.

S
erena hadn't had a full night's sleep in the weeks following Jamie's revelations, but she told herself she was thinking clearly. However tired she might be, this morning she'd admitted it to herself: she was through.

Through being the primary breadwinner for a husband who spent his time playing a child's game for what might as well have been play money. After travel expenses and his newly revealed paternal obligations, Jamie's take-home paycheck was barely half of hers.

No doubt, after years spent swimming upstream, she was through. Through pretending that her youthful sins and indiscretions meant she should never experience true romantic love.

The hard truth: she'd married Jamie only because his sperm won the lottery. Had he not beaten Tony to the punch in creating Sydney, she would have rushed to the man who truly touched her heart, assuming he'd have had her. There was every chance Tony would have fled the scene, proven less willing to tie himself down than Jamie had been. But, hell, Jamie hadn't exactly tied himself down, now had he?

Through.
The word echoed inside her head as she sat in her bathroom, Sydney sitting in the chair in front of hers. “Sit still, baby,” she said between pursed lips as her little girl squirmed.

“My hair looks fine, Mommy,” Sydney said, drawing her shoulders up and twitching again. “All the girls at school
always
like it.”

“Oh, Sydney,” Serena sighed. “Those white girls only like your hair because it's as long as theirs. How many times have we had this talk?” She poured another dollop of pink oil into her hands, rubbed them together vigorously, and proceeded to massage the oil into Sydney's half-straight, half-curly locks. “They like any black girl's hair that doesn't have to be permed.”

“But they like my hair, and they like me,” Sydney said. “What's wrong with that?”

“Honey . . . Lord Jesus.” Serena shook her head. Her sweet ten-year-old, a talented ballet dancer, was so trusting it scared her. She had to pump some street savvy into the child before she bloomed into a complete dingbat. “Sydney,” she said finally, “it's time you learn that your hair does not define you, okay? Look at your daddy. Do you like his hair?”

Sydney's shoulders hopped with laughter. “No, silly. Daddy doesn't have any hair.”

Serena massaged another round of oil into her baby's scalp. “But you love Daddy with his bald self, don't you?”

“Of course!”

“Well, that's just one example. Sydney, have any of the girls who like your hair ever said anything nice about your sister's hair?”

Sydney shook her head violently. “Dawn doesn't like my friends.”

“Answer my question,” Serena said, jerking the child so that she sat straighter in her chair.

“Ouch, Mommy.” Sydney turned over her shoulder briefly, a look of betrayal in her eyes. “No,” she said, in a belated reply to her mother's questioning. “I've never heard Amber or them say nice stuff about Dawn's hair.”

Serena leaned forward until her mouth was level with her daughter's left ear. “Well, next time they start talking about hair, you ask them what they think of Dawn's. Then we'll talk about what they say, okay?”

Sydney's neck drooped forward. “Okay, Mommy.” Nearly choking on a sob, the child's next question startled her. “You think Dawn's right to hate me, don't you?”

“Oh, Sydney, no. No.” Serena reached forward, hugging her daughter against her breastbone and pecking a kiss onto her cheek. She'd gone too far. The fatigue, combined with her growing disinterest in taking her lithium as religiously as she should, was catching up to her. She had done her best to shield her children from the impact, but other than that Serena didn't care whose feelings she might step on. She was too through to be bothered.

As she finished braiding Sydney's hair, Serena worked at taking a more positive tone. She assured her daughter that the family counseling they'd had, along with Dawn's own private therapy and the family's recent decision to enroll her in Rowan Academy, had paid off.

After just a week there, Dawn was already surprisingly enthusiastic about her new school. Two of her former classmates and another friend from their neighborhood were already enrolled there, and had only good things to say about it. Serena also suspected that some of Dawn's willingness to switch schools had to do with Stevie, a roughneck knucklehead at Western Hill who had dumped her around the end of the summer. Serena was glad to have that kid in the rearview mirror but knew from experience that he wasn't the last; a girl as cute as Dawn would be drawing unwelcome attention for years to come.

The thought of her little girl in some young fool's arms made Serena dizzy with worry. She and Jamie weren't letting Dawn go out on actual dates with boys yet, but one punk after another had rung the family phone off the hook since the child's thirteenth birthday.

“Things are going to be better, baby,” Serena said to Sydney as she surveyed her handiwork on the child's hair. “Dawn will be able to get a fresh start at Rowan, and she'll get better at expressing herself when she has a problem with you. All you have to do is keep loving her, and show her that you understand why she gets mad when the other girls praise your hair and ignore hers. Okay?”

By the time Serena's mother, Jan, arrived to pick up her granddaughter, Sydney was a bouncing ball of joy again. As Sydney wrapped her in a hug, Jan smiled at Serena. “Well. Either she's eager to see me, or Mommy's been an ogre today.”

Serena bit her lower lip, then smiled wanly to hide her resentment at her mother's playful accusation. “She hasn't seen much of you and Dad this week,” she replied. “Dawn's looking forward to spending the night with you all, too. You have the directions to her friend Tina's house, right?”

“It's all here,” Jan said, patting her black leather purse. She looked down at Sydney. “Why you still standing there looking silly? Go get your overnight bag, please.”

“Okay.” Suddenly choosing to hop like a kangaroo, Sydney bounced toward the front hall's steps.

“Now tell me,” Jan said over the faint rumble of Sydney's footsteps, “are you sure this is a good idea? Being alone on a Saturday night, after the past few weeks you've had?” Serena's mother and father knew about Jamie's revelations, only because he chose to share them himself, the morning after his initial confession. Whatever he was, Jamie wasn't stupid; though her parents were disgusted with his actions, they gave him points for being a man and owning up to the whole thing. Like Serena, they'd always known he wasn't much for the monogamy thing.

“I'll be fine, Mom.” Serena shut the door behind Jan and accepted the hug her mother offered. “I am so glad Jamie's already back in Italy. I need tonight off just to get over the stress of sharing this house with him.”

“You can't avoid him forever, honey,” Jan said, smiling and stroking Serena's cheek lovingly. “You two will have to make a decision.”

“I know that, Mom,” Serena said. “And believe me, I want to do the right thing. I want this marriage to survive.” The words sounded good, sounded noble, sounded like what she figured Jan would want to hear, so Serena kept her true thoughts to herself.
A sister is through. Through. Jamie's not the only one who gets to do his own thing anymore.

“Maybe we should talk some more,” Jan said as she pulled out of their hug. Serena suddenly sensed that her mother was picking her words with care. “Why don't I let your father have quality time with the girls on his own this evening, and I'll come back over here? I just want you to make sure you're processing everything clearly, dear.”

Serena glanced at her own open-toe shoes, smiling grimly.
You think I'm manic, don't you?
Serena didn't even try to convince herself that her mother was wrong; all that mattered was that her “episodes,” as her psychiatrist called them, were always on the mild end of the spectrum. Not exactly the end of the world. “I'm fine, Mom,” she said with the most casually reassuring tone she could manage. “Don't worry. Besides, more than anything what I need tonight is a good sleep. Soon as you all walk out that door, I'm going to bed.”

“Well, if you're sure,” Jan replied, glancing up at Sydney as she bounded down the steps with her bright-colored overnight bag bouncing on her shoulder.

When Serena had locked the door after them, she breathed a sigh of relief and slumped against the door. Six weeks after nearly getting run over by a semi while processing Jamie's roadside confession, she'd embraced the very reaction she first resisted.

She had come too far in life to simply snap upon hearing Jamie's news and immediately go running toward Tony. No, before embracing just how through she was, she had gamely struggled to keep it together. Up until thirty-six hours ago, when she'd confronted Jamie's baby mama, she'd tried to respect her marriage, labored to resist the chemistry that sparkled between her and Tony the day of Kym's wedding.

The other woman's name was Angelita, and not only was she predictably breathtaking—she was nearly as tall as Jamie, her pitch-black curls scraped the small of her back, and her olive complexion was unnaturally spotless—but she failed to stoke Serena's anger or sense of betrayal. When they first met, at a Bob Evans near the hotel Jamie had stashed her and little Andrea in, she was
immediately apologetic, insisting that Jamie never admitted to being married until she was pregnant with the boy.

“I don't do these bad things,” Angelita had said repeatedly in heavily accented English. “I know you must hate me, and I don't blame you. I just ask you not to hate my boy, Jamie's boy.” When she stopped to wipe her tears, Serena noticed Angelita's one blemish: dark circles underneath her eyes, evidence of the maternal stress associated with tending to a sick child.

She'd clearly been a vibrant woman when she first drew Jamie's attention, but Serena looked at the woman across from her and counted her blessings. Motherhood had been a struggle for her in many ways, sure, but she knew from an hour's conversation about Andrea's dozen surgeries and team of specialists that she had it easy by comparison. Truth told, she had it easier than Jamie; given that he was too much of a human being to walk away from his own child, she knew he was as tormented by Andrea's illnesses as Angelita.

As she left the Bob Evans, Serena realized that she shouldn't end her marriage out of spite; she should just release Jamie, free him up to provide Angelita and Andrea with the steady strength and support they so desperately needed. He'd never shown it for her or the girls, but maybe he'd find it for his new family.

Her mind made up, the house finally empty, Serena hustled to the kitchen's cordless phone. Even with the growing fog that had descended the past few days, she knew she had to act fast to beat the gremlins of caution and guilt. She picked up the phone and dialed Tony's cell phone number. She stood there in her family's kitchen, breath growing short, as she relived the last time she dialed this number.

It was not déjà vu, though. This time, he answered.