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Lying in the bed she shared with Russel had felt like floating in a poisonous lake. And she’d burned to know what Gail was referring to when she said Abby didn’t know her father. What were Gail’s secrets, wherever she was?
But Claire felt like a fish out of water in Russel’s office. She only went in there to vacuum or put snacks on his desk, so much so that even the furniture and the decorations looked taken from somebody else’s house. She hadn’t had a hand in picking it out and couldn’t even fathom where he’d purchased some of it. Certainly, it had come from off the island. She gripped the back of his desk chair, one of those meant to save your posture, closed her eyes, and tried to visualize Russel here; she tried to feel his thoughts as he entered this room every day. But nothing came to her.
Scared that someone would find her snooping, Claire closed the door and sat on the desk chair, surveying the landscape of Russel’s things. It was a bit like digging through Gail’s belongings in her dorm room, except for the fact that Russel was an entirely different breed. He was more organized than Gail. He liked to use his label machine and put the labels on various envelopes and folders. He liked to keep his computer keyboard dust-free. And he liked to use coasters for his coffee mugs and cans of late-afternoon beer, which he stacked in a precise line at the corner of the desk.
Russel had always been this organized, even back in high school. He’d been voted “Most Likely to Succeed” their senior year, making him feel crestfallen.“I don’t know what I want to succeed in,”he’d told Claire privately.“I feel like a failure just because everyone believes I’m about to do something grand.”
To this, Claire had said,“You are going to do something grand. You’re going to work for the city of Oak Bluffs. And you’re going to marry me and have babies. What more could you want than that?”
Russel had taken his laptop, his tablet, and both his work and personal phones with him to the city. This left his desktop. She tapped on the keyboard to wake up the screen. The background was a photograph of Gail and Abby on a recent vacation to Seattle, dressed in parkas that glinted with rain. Claire remembered the vacation well. It was their final trip as a family before Gail and Abby went off to college, and they’d spoken perpetually about their dreams for the future—about the classes they would take and the boys they would date and the parties they would attend. Nervous, Claire had given them a talking-to about drinking. “You’re both lightweights, which means you just can’t drink the way some other kids can. I beg you. Drink water. Pay attention to how you feel. And watch out for each other!”
Russel had later laughed with her about this in their private bedroom as another Seattle rain crashed outside their window. “They’re going to make so many mistakes. That’s what being eighteen is. And you have to let them, Claire.”
Russel’s computer was password protected, which felt bizarre. It wasn’t like anyone else ever came into their house or entered Russel’s office. Who was he protecting his files from?
Then again, Claire was pretty sure she’d read an article about thieves breaking into someone’s house and stealing all of their bank information from their computer. Where had that happened? Ohio? Idaho? Maybe Russel was just being cautious. Protecting them. After all, the city council had already accused him of stealing from Oak Bluffs. Anything could happen.
But Claire couldn’t help herself. She perched her fingers on the keyboard and typed the first thing that came to her mind—their wedding anniversary. It shook, indicating the password was false. After that, Claire tried Gail and Abby’s birthday in July. Nope. Not that, either. Chewing on the inside of her cheek, she tried her birthday, Russel’s birthday, Russel’s parents’ birthdays, followed by Russel’s childhood pets’ names, and on and on. She couldn’t find it. And she’d begun to feel disgusted with herself, digging through her husband’s computer like this.
Frustrated, she crossed her arms tightly and stared out into the inky darkness beyond his office window. What else could she do? She could dig through Russel’s files. She could tear apart the office closet. She could take a sledgehammer to his computer and go fully crazy. But none of it would bring Gail back.
Was it possible that Gail had misunderstood something? Claire’s heartbeat slowed as she considered it. Maybe Gail had overheard a conversation Russel had with a client. Maybe he’d said something brash and stupid; something flirtatious. Gail was creative. Maybe she’d invented an entire world around a few words he’d said and decided to make a bigger deal out of it than it was.
That was a teenage girl’s thing, right? Making a big deal out of nothing?
Claire walked back down the hall and collapsed in bed, no longer certain of anything. Gail’s face floated in her mind’s eye. As their mother, Claire had never had problems differentiating them. They’d always been unique to her. It had always seemed clear.
When Russel got home from the city the next day, Charlotte, Rachel, Abby, and Claire were at the coffee shop as a snowfall blustered outside the window. Claire had ordered a few slices of cake for the table, a carrot, a pistachio cream, and a cheesecake, but the four of them hardly picked at them, raising their forks and putting them back down again. It was January 12, six full days since Gail had left her dorm room and never returned. Time was having its way with them.
That was when the text from Russel came through.
RUSSEL: Where are you?
Claire’s heartbeat intensified. Russel had said he was coming home today, but she’d half believed he wouldn’t make it, that he’d find a reason to stay in New York City.
“Your father’s back,” Claire said to Abby.
Abby’s cheeks were pale. She sipped her coffee and said, “You aren’t going to tell him what I told you. Are you?”
“No,” Claire assured her.Not yet.
Charlotte and Rachel had decided to stay with Trevor and Kerry while Russel was at the house. “You need your space,” Charlotte said. “And Mom has been texting me nonstop since we got back, demanding we come over. You’d think I wasn’t just here for the holidays.”
Claire and Abby hugged Charlotte and Rachel close and abandoned their uneaten slices of cake, tumbling back into the frigid air. Claire drove Abby back home wordlessly. The car filled with the sense of dread. But when the garage door lifted, Russel opened the adjoining door immediately and smiled warmly at them. He wore his house clothes, sweatpants and a sweatshirt, and his hair was ruffled and wild without his normal mousse. More than anything, he looked worried, his eyes bloodshot.
Claire removed her boots and stepped into his arms. He smelled the same as he always had.
“I don’t know what I thought,” Russel breathed into her ear. “When you weren’t here. I was worried I’d lost all of you.”
Claire felt his heartbeat through his sweatshirt. Tears sprung to her eyes.
“There’s my girl,” Russel said, extending an arm toward Abby. Abby hurried to join their group hug, and Russel held them there, sturdy as a rock, as the winter winds rocketed against the house.
Claire was suddenly ravenous. In the kitchen, she scraped butter over slices of rye bread and made everyone toasted ham-and-cheese sandwiches with cheddar melting out the sides. Russel and Abby sat on the stools of the kitchen island, Russel with a beer and Abby with a green juice. There was a heaviness in the space where Gail should have been.
Was this their new normal?
After they ate, Abby excused herself upstairs to attend an online class. Rina scrubbed the skillet as Russel cracked another beer. He was often riled up after the city; the stress from all those meetings and important people sent his blood pressure skyrocketing.
