Page 56 of Breathing Under Water

I take a moment longer and then gasp. “You don’t think McKenna...?” I’m appalled at the very suggestion. “Because the club wouldn’t let her hold the swim lessons? No, baby, I don’t think so. She seems so grounded and sensible. She’s not some disgruntled worker who would go off the rails like that.”

“I’m not sure, Ma. She’s told me herself that she sometimes gets so angry she can’t control herself. I found it endearing when she was talking about it, but maybe I was being a little blind. She was so pissed off about the lessons getting canceled. Then she was accused of assaulting one of their members. I mean, how well do we really know her?”

The question does make me think.

“Maybe she thought she was being some kind of hero,” he continues. “But it’s pretty wack to pour toxins into a private pool. And don’t get me started on the environmental implications. I hate to say it, but maybe she’s not the angel we thought she was.”

“So you think we should all cut her off? You’re going to end things with her too?”

“There’s nothing to end, Ma. It was one date. Maybe not even a date. I don’t know what she thought. But this is about Leo. The last thing he needs is to get mixed up with trouble. So yeah, I’m going to stop texting her, and we should make sure Leo knows not to contact her either. That’s all I’m saying.”

He’s not wrong, and we do have plenty enough drama going on in our house already.

“Listen, Ma. I gotta run.”

When we hang up, I try to imagine that kind, accomplished young woman sneaking onto the grounds of a country club under cover of night, canisters of gasoline in her hands, and I just don’t see it. Leo had been building such a nice relationship with her, and I hate to make him give that up because of some cockamamie theory Harrison’s cooked up. But then I consider the possibility she really did do the things he’s accused her of. That’s not the kind of behavior I want Leo anywhere near. If he was able to connect so deeply with McKenna, I have to hope others could bring out the best in him too. Better safe than sorry and all that. Leo will have to find other mentors, other people to inspire him.

I turn back to my computer and try to focus on the faculty résumés I’m supposed to be reviewing. When I make it to the third application for our junior art teacher position without remembering a single detail from the others, I accept that I’m too distracted. I just cannot stop thinking about Hollyhock. What Harrison described sounds more like something gang members would do as an initiation prank, not the actions of an NCAA Division 1 athlete and promising nursing student. I Google the number for Hollyhock, deciding to do some recon of my own. A receptionist picks up, and I ask to be transferred to the manager of the club.

After a few moments of classical music, a woman answers, sounding frazzled. “This is Kathleen.”

“Hi, I’m sorry to bother you, but I was hoping you could tell me if you know who’s responsible for the vandalism of your pool.”

“I’m sorry, who’s this?” she asks, her voice defensive, as if I have no right to be asking. And I guess I don’t.

“Oh, sorry. This is Berry Selinger. My son, Leo Becker, was one of the special-needs students being taught by McKenna Jamison.”

“I see.” There’s a pause, and then she says, “I’m sorry, Ms. Selinger, but we can’t give out any information about the incident yet. So if that’s all...” I’m sure she’s got a lot to deal with, remediating whatever happened.

“I don’t want to keep you,” I tell her. “It’s just that my son has developed quite a friendship with McKenna, and I’m trying to figure out if maybe this is not a productive relationship for him to continue. He’s not socially aware the way a neurotypical kid would be, and I just don’t want him to be taken advantage of.”

The woman lets out a loud breath. “Yeah, I can understand that.” Her tone mellows as she continues. “Look, we don’t have any proof, but all signs are pointing to McKenna. You’re probably right to be cautious. Whoever did this definitely intended to cause extensive harm. That’s really all I can say.”

I try to imagine the damage at the club. I don’t know much about swimming pool maintenance, but I grew up around plenty of auto-body shops, and I’m well aware that once gasoline and oil paint get where they don’t belong, there are no easy fixes. I’m sure it’ll cost the club a fortune to rectify, though they’ve surely got good insurance. “Will she get arrested?”

“Well, again, we don’t have any proof. We lost power during the storm, and it didn’t get restored until about four a.m. Our generator covers the basics—lights and refrigerators—but it doesn’t power the security cameras. If it was McKenna, she waspretty clever about it. Almost as if she waited for the right night to make her move. I’d be wary of a person that calculating. That’s all I can tell you.”

When we hang up, I allow myself a minute to wonder when exactly I became so naïve. As a girl growing up in Bay Shore, I never bought into anybody’s bullshit. I’m so disappointed in myself for falling for McKenna’s song and dance and exposing my sweet Leo to her. Even worse, I’m angry at myself for putting up with Phil’s refusal to share whatever dirty little secret he’s hiding. It’s not enough that he admitted tosomething. I don’t care whether he’s ready to share with me. Sometimes we’re not ready to do the hard things, but we don’t get a choice. And I’m all finished handing out free passes.

Tonight, when Phil gets home from work, I’m waiting in the mudroom. As he walks in from the garage and sees me standing there, his eyes light up for a second, but then he registers the expression on my face.

“You’re not taking one step farther into this house until you tell me what the hell is going on.”

“Berry, come on.” He drops his bag beside the door and tries to move around me, but I’m fast and I block his path.

“I mean it. I don’t know when I became Berry the Pushover, but no more. We don’t do this. Not you and me.”

“For fuck’s sake, Berry. Please don’t do this. You’re putting me in an impossible position.”

“I am?” I ask incredulously. “I’m puttingyouin a bad position? I’m not the one who’s been disappearing for hours on end, hiding pharmacy bags and god knows what else. Either you spit it out right now, or you turn around and find yourself somewhere else to stay.”

Phil twists around to look at the door, as if he’s actually deciding whether to stay or go, and then he looks back at me, his eyes unreadable.

We’re both silent for so long that everything starts to feel surreal. I just keep staring at his face, willing him to finally come clean, praying for it not to be as awful as all the different things I’m imagining. He’s clearly fighting some sort of war within himself. As the seconds drag, it begins to feel like I can’t see him at all. And if that’s not a perfect metaphor for this situation, I don’t know what is.

Finally, when I’m nearly faint from the strangeness of it all, Phil opens his mouth. But instead of speaking, he just starts to sob.

“Phil, honey, what is it?” On instinct, I’m wrapping my arms around him, guiding his head onto my shoulder as his body shakes. “You’ve got to tell me. What’s happening?”