Never Knowing

I called Evan back and told him what had just happened.

“That’s weird.”

“No kidding. I’m going to Victoria with the girls tomorrow and I don’t know what I’m going to do if he calls.”

“Treat him like you would a normal person — tell him you’re busy.”

“But he’s not a normal person.”

“Let’s talk about something else. How was Ally’s birthday party today?”

“We almost missed it because John called three times this morning — it was awful. And I forgot Jake’s birthday party so we had to get a present on the way there. Ally was so upset.”

“Poor Ally. She feels neglected.”

“Excuse me? Are you saying I’m neglecting my daughter?”

“I didn’t mean it like how you’re about to take it. Let’s not go there.”

“You already took it there, Evan. I feel bad enough without you getting on my case too.”

“I’m sorry I said anything. I know you’re having a hard time.”

We were both silent for a moment. I imagined Sandy in a room somewhere, headphones on, listening to my relationship problems, smiling that condescending smile.

I said, “I appreciate that you’re looking out for me—”

“I am.”

“I know, but I can take care of myself.”

He laughed.

“Hey! I’ve managed just fine for years.”

His voice teased, “Just admit you were a mess before you fell in love with me.” This time I laughed, not even caring if Sandy was listening.

The next morning the girls arrived around nine-thirty, just after I dropped Ally off at Meghan’s. We took my Cherokee and Lauren brought fresh-baked scones and a thermos full of coffee. The drive down was fun, with everyone talking at once and Lauren cracking runaway bride jokes. Melanie was even in a good mood, although we had a close call when she asked to use my cell phone because she’d forgotten hers. When I hesitated she kept looking at me, so I grabbed it out of my purse and handed it over. I was terrified John would call while she was on the phone, but she just made a quick call to Kyle.

The morning flew by as we hit the downtown boutiques. We were planning to have an outdoor wedding, so Evan and I were trying to stick with a natural theme. We found a bridesmaid dress that was perfect. It was this strapless tea-length chiffon in a gorgeous silvery green, almost a sage, like the flat side of fir needles, and it looked great on both girls. After we ordered the dresses we had a late lunch at an Irish pub overlooking the inner harbor. It was nice to have a day when I could just laugh and talk about familiar, everyday things. Normal things. But I forgot my life was anything but normal.

After the girls came back to my place and got their vehicles, I picked up Ally. As soon as we walked into the house I dug my cell phone out of my purse to put it on the charger.

Twenty missed calls.

I scrolled through the list of numbers. They were all from John and Billy. I checked my voice mail, but there was just one message from Billy to call him ASAP, then five hang-ups. Why hadn’t I heard it ring?

I grabbed the cordless and called my cell. It vibrated in my hand. On its side there’s a button that changes it from ring to vibrate, but I hadn’t touched my cell since that morning. It must have gotten bumped in my purse when I dropped my wallet back in.

I called John right away, but his cell was off. Then I phoned Billy and got his voice mail. I left a message.

For the next hour I paced around my house, glancing at the phone, willing it to ring, worried about why Billy hadn’t called back yet, and all the while struggling to stay calm so Ally didn’t sense something was wrong. Finally, just after I put her to bed, John called.

As soon as I picked up I said, “I’m so sorry I missed your calls. The phone was set on vibrate and I didn’t know—”

“You ignored me.”

“That’s what I’m trying to explain. I didn’t ignore you, the phone was in my purse and I didn’t know it was on vibrate. It was in the very bottom — you wouldn’t believe the junk I have in there — and there was a lot of noise around me.” Not a lie. Three excited women do make quite a racket.

I paused and held my breath.

“I don’t believe you, Sara. You’re lying.”

“I’m not. I swear. I wouldn’t do that to—”

But he’d already hung up.

And that’s where it’s still at. My next call was from Billy, who was as close to pissed off as I’ve ever heard him sound.

“How did this happen, Sara?”

After we spoke for a minute or two his tone changed and he said I shouldn’t beat myself up — it was an accident. I’m pretty sure Sandy didn’t agree, though. She called as soon as I hung up from Billy, asking the same question. I told her I hadn’t ignored John on purpose and I think she believed me, eventually, but I could tell she was still angry. She said John’s cell had pinged off towers in Kamloops each time it connected with my phone, but he’d been staying in high-traffic areas. They pulled over a bunch of vehicles, running checks on anyone who looked suspicious, but they still didn’t have a suspect.

Sandy told me they’d have a patrol car parked outside, just in case John decided to hop on a ferry and talk to me in person. When I asked if she actually thought he’d do anything, she said, in her tense voice, “We’ll find out soon, but if he is stupid enough to try something, we’ll get him.” But I haven’t heard from John since. Not once. I wish I could be happy about that.

SESSION ELEVEN

I can’t sit still right now. I have to keep moving, have to walk around. My legs ache with frustration, with the unbearable agony of waiting. It must be driving you nuts, my bouncing around your office. You should see me at home — I pace from window to window, pulling up blinds, dropping them back down. Sweep up dirt, only to abandon the half-filled dustpan in the corner. Put half the dishes into the dishwasher, then start doing laundry. I stuff my mouth with peanut-butter-laden crackers, then race upstairs to Google, find a thread of something on one site, and follow it from site to site until my eyes are blurry.

Next I call Evan, who tells me to do some yoga, go to the gym, take Moose for a walk, but instead I pick fights with him over stupid stuff — because that makes so much more sense.

I make notes, charts. I have graphs for my graphs. My desk is peppered with Post-its, rapid thoughts scrawled in a jerky hand. It’s not helping. I ignore work e-mails or barely answer. I’m trying to buy myself time on some projects, trying to hang on to it all, but I’m losing my grip on everything.

As soon as I got home after our last session, Billy and Sandy pulled into my driveway. When I opened the front door and saw their grave faces, my stomach flipped.

“What’s wrong?”

“Let’s go inside,” Billy said.

“Tell me what’s going on first.” I searched his eyes. “Is Ally—”

“She’s fine.”

“Evan—”

“Your family’s all fine. Let’s go inside. Got some coffee?”