“You told me to.” Cole’s lower lip quivers, and his eyes widen.
“I said envelope, not manila envelope.” Mark goes to his bag and returns with a small white envelope.
“Yikes,” I say to Mark. “You all right?”
“Sorry, buddy,” Mark says. “Didn’t mean to snap at you.”
Cole gingerly takes the envelope, looking at Mark to see if it is really safe.
“Go ahead,” Mark urges in a chummy tone. “Open it up.”
Cole pulls out the photos of Caitlin and Charles, Bob and Joan. The Rosses are all accounted for.
“Can you help me glue them on?” he asks.
“I’d love to, buddy, but I have to leave for work,” Mark says. “I can help you this evening.”
Cole turns to me. “Can you help, Mommy?”
“Sure,” I say. “After school. Now it’s time to get dressed.”
“Today’s a half day.”
“That right?” I suppress a grimace. I had completely forgotten. It seemed as though there hadn’t been a full week of school this whole fall. “Cole, please go upstairs and get dressed.”
Cole scowls and stomps upstairs with the photos.
“I guess I’ll see if Susan can pick him up.”
Mark stands up, takes Cole’s empty cereal bowl to the sink, and begins rinsing it. “You forgot about the half day?”
“I’m sorry, did you remember?” I snap. I take a centering breath. I don’t want to fight about domestic duties. “Look, Mark, I think we should talk.”
“Good idea.” He shuts the water off. “Listen, Allie, I’m not accusing you of anything, but I need you to help me understand something.”
I swallow hard. “Fine. What is it?”
He wipes his hands on a dish towel and grabs his phone. After some typing, he turns it to me. I see the familiar blue Facebook logo. “Brian at work, of all people, sent it to me.”
I groan. I should have prepared him for this. And maybe I would have if he had stayed to talk to me last night instead of going to the Nats game. “Listen, that is the fake Facebook page I told you about. I contacted Facebook, and they’re looking into it.”
“Who’s Lexi?” The name smacks me with the force of a slap.
“It was a stupid nickname from high school.”
“There are nude photos of you online.” His voice is taut like a guitar string that’s too tight and about to snap. “My colleagues from work have seen them.”
“I know, I should have told you they were out there.”
“Yes, you should have. Do you have any idea how embarrassing this is for me?”
His words stun me. “However you feel, believe me, it’s worse for me, Mark.”
He rolls his eyes. “Of course. But, Allie, c’mon. You never thought to tell me there were nude photos of you floating around the internet?”
“They’re not floating around, Mark.” My head begins to throb. This isn’t going the way I wanted it to. I shouldn’t have to defend myself. “They’re from high school.”
“It’s not just the pictures. It’s the posts.”
“I know how terrible this looks. But please remember that I did not write any of that. I feel you’re not getting it—this is happening to me.”
“What does your boss think? Has he said anything?” His eyes are glued to the screen. I don’t think he’s listening to me. “I mean, aren’t you supposed to be shooting Valerie Simmons next week? What if she sees this?”
His anxiety pricks me like a bee sting. I try to swallow the lump that is forming in my throat. “I don’t know. I’m praying I can get these accounts shut down soon.”
Mark taps at the phone, his eyes wide. “I’m a prisoner in my own life,” he reads and then lowers his voice. “It says you regret having kids.” He looks up. “I know that’s not true, but…”
“But what?” My guts clench and twist. “If you know it’s not true, then what?”
“I remember you talking about an abortion.”
“That’s not fair. That was years ago.” I glance at the stairs, terrified Cole might come down at any moment. “We weren’t even married,” I hiss. “We had only been together a few months.”
“You said you weren’t ready for kids. I kept thinking that at some point, you would warm to all this.”
“What haven’t I warmed to?” But the truth is, his accusation hits a nerve. I’ve never regretted having Cole, not for a minute. I have ruminated, however, on how motherhood has swallowed me whole, whereas Mark has managed to tack father onto his list of descriptors. But I’ve never said any of this aloud.
“To all of this.” Mark waves his hands around the messy kitchen. “To being a mom, to having other mom friends. To cooking. Allie, you don’t even know how to scramble an egg, for Chrissakes.”
“That’s the metric you judge me by? How well I cook eggs?”
“You’re being oversensitive.” He closes his eyes, and for a moment the only sound in the kitchen is that damn huge clock. Mark opens his eyes. “When Cole was little, we agreed we wanted him to have a brother or sister. I thought that was the plan, but now…”
“Now what?”
“Maybe this is all too much for you.”
“Maybe it is sometimes. And yes, I am not sure if I want a second child. But that doesn’t mean I don’t love Cole or that I don’t love our life together. Just because I don’t scramble eggs … I mean, all parents get overwhelmed.”
To this, Mark shrugs.
“What, you’re saying you never do?” I ask.
“No. Not like you do.” He shakes his head. “I like our life. I like our house, our neighborhood. This is what I want.”
“I want it, too. But someone is trying to destroy me, Mark. Someone is framing me for Rob Avery’s murder.”
“You’re being overdramatic.”
“Am I? I don’t think so. Tell me you’ll at least be home by six.”
“What’s happening at six?”
“I told you.” I am furious that he doesn’t remember. “Artie Zucker is coming. Here.”
“Of course I’ll be here,” he snaps. “Hiring him was my idea, remember?”
My cell phone rings, but I ignore it.
“Your phone, Allie.”
