“You’re really talented. I have zero creative ability. Former lawyer.”
“Oh, I doubt that,” I say, adding a “Thank you.” Leah curls herself into one of the wingback chairs, and I sit on the floral sofa.
“Nice sofa,” she says and laughs.
“It was my mother-in-law’s.” At night, the bare windows and minimal furniture lend the room the feel of a theater set after everyone has gone home. The awful cement-colored walls that Daisy once called “greige” don’t help.
“How did the visit with Jeff Crosetti go? I noticed the posts are gone from the Eastbrook page.” She sips her wine.
I describe my interaction with Crosetti.
“Well, that’s good news, right?”
“Well, neither Facebook nor Tinder has been the least bit helpful.” I bite my lower lip, a stinging sensation building behind my eyes. Don’t cry, I tell myself. Leah frowns.
“But what?” she asks.
I hesitate. “Did you see the blue BMW that was parked outside my house earlier?”
She scrunches up her nose. “Maybe?”
“Well, it was Vicki.”
“Vicki Armstrong? The PTA president?”
I fill her in on what happened, my face warming as I recount the conversation and the embarrassing texts. “The worst part is that Mark saw them.”
“But he believes you, right? That you didn’t write them.”
I cringe. I did write them. And Madeline found them and posted them online, where my entire school could read them. “It was really awful.”
“He’s in shock; give him some time. I mean, what would you think if you were in his shoes, and some woman showed up at your house, and the Tinder app was on his phone?”
“The app is on my phone, but I swear, Leah, I did not put it there. I know that sounds crazy.”
“I believe you, I really do.” She gathers her thick dark hair over one shoulder and begins braiding it. “You know that apps can be remotely installed, right?”
“They can?”
“Sure. If your phone is synced to your computer. Is your phone synced to your home computer?”
“Yes, everything—all our iPads and iPhones—are all synced up.”
“Well, there you go.” She raises her glass and takes a sip.
“How do you know about all this?”
She fixes her large eyes on me. “Believe me, I wish I didn’t. Let’s just say parenting Dustin has meant learning more about technology than I would like.”
“Got it.” I wonder if I should mention Dustin’s proposal to help me, but I don’t. Something tells me she wouldn’t like it.
“Basically,” she says, “anyone who had access to your computer could have downloaded that onto your phone.”
I squeeze my eyes shut. “This is so out of control. I don’t know how to fix this.”
“Hopefully, there will be a break in the case soon, the police will arrest someone, and all this gossip will die down.”
I look at Leah and nod. But inside I am less confident. I’m worried about the way the police have focused on me and might not be looking at other suspects. I’ve read about that happening; it’s how innocent people end up in prison.
“You have to find out who’s doing this to you. Do you still think it might be that ex-boyfriend from high school?”
I pick at a loose thread on the arm of the sofa. “I do. It’s the only person I can think of who might be angry with me. And also, there are just these little things that very few people know about.”
“You mean the nude photo?”
“Yeah. And a few other things.”
“Is he in the D.C. area now? It would have to be someone who knew you then and lives here now.”
I take a large gulp of wine. I’ve been thinking the exact same thought, but to hear Leah articulate it makes me realize how strange it would be. “I’ve never had any luck tracking him down. His name is so common, I’ve never gotten anywhere online.”
“What about other friends from high school? Anyone here now?”
“Actually, yeah. My closest friend from back then, Madeline Ashford, lives in Arlington. We haven’t spoken in ages. I’ve reached out to her, but we haven’t connected yet.” I shake my head, trying to think. “There really isn’t anyone else. I don’t really have friends from school. I was only there for two years. After that nude photo made the rounds, I left the school. They let me graduate early. I think they wanted to avoid any kind of lawsuit. I left for California and never looked back.”
“Lawsuit?” Leah frowns.
I’ve said too much. The wine has loosened my thoughts, and I’m having trouble remembering which bits of my story I’ve shared and which I’ve not.
“What happened, Allie? Was it something with that guy in the photo?”
My whole throat seizes. I don’t want to lie anymore. I don’t want to drag this cloak of shame with me everywhere I go. I want to lay it at my friend’s feet and let her kindness begin to heal me. “He was my photography teacher.”
Leah brings a hand to her mouth. I don’t know if she’s judging me or is just shocked. Now that I’ve started telling her the truth, I don’t want to stop. “It was a huge deal. He got fired. The police got involved, although nothing ever came of that. I was gone by then.”
“Oh, Allie. I’m so sorry.” Leah slides forward in the chair and reaches out across the coffee table for my hand. I let her squeeze it for a few seconds and then pull back.
“I can’t believe I just told you that. I have never told anyone since it happened.”
“Anyone?”
I shake my head. “Nope. Not even Mark. I just wanted so badly for it to be in my past. And for a while I was able to even forget sometimes, you know? Like how they say you shed your skin every seven years and become a new person? That was
