Bird in Hand - Christina Baker Kline [46]
“No blaming,” Ed said. “We said we weren’t going to do that. Remember?”
“I remember. I remember. This is not about blame. This is about helping this family get back to normal—if that’s even possible.”
Charlie shot her an annoyed glance. Did she have to do this in front of the kids?
“I’m thick! I’m thick!” Noah wailed, flailing in his car seat.
When they arrived home, Alison had gotten dressed and was in the kitchen, loading the dishwasher with cereal bowls from breakfast. Her parents dropped their bags and went over to hug her, and she collapsed into their arms. Charlie shuffled the children into the living room and put on a Shrek DVD; he knew that June would remark on it, but he didn’t care. He looked at his watch: 12:20. If he didn’t take the next train into the city his entire workday would be lost. Already the client on his biggest account, the paper conglomerate PMRG, was leaving passive-aggressive messages on his voice mail: “Charles, I’m sure you’re a busy man with other things to do, but the clock is ticking on this campaign. We need to hear from you. I tried to reach you by e-mail, but perhaps you haven’t gotten my messages. If you can fit me into your schedule, I’d appreciate a call by the end of day today, thanks.” When Charlie thought about it, his stomach clenched.
“I need to catch the next train,” he said, coming into the kitchen.
“What?” said June. “You’re leaving? Is it even worth it at this hour?”
“I’ve got a three o’clock meeting,” he lied, then was immediately irritated at himself. Why should he lie? He had to go to work—he earned the money around here. It was as simple as that. Why did he suddenly feel like he was the one who’d done something wrong?
Alison looked at him blankly. Noah had come in and was whining for juice, sidling through her legs like a cat, but Alison didn’t seem to notice. “When will you be home?” she asked.
Charlie looked at his watch. The gesture was a visual signifier; he knew what time it was. “Well, I may need to stay a few hours later,” he said, calculating that he might be able to talk to Claire if he had some flexibility. Where was she? Somewhere in the South. All he wanted was to hear her voice, feel a brief connection. That would be enough for now. “I’m dealing with a major account.” He turned to Ed, his only potential ally in the room, to explain. “As you might imagine, things have been—difficult here. I’ve had to take quite a bit of time off.”
“I’m sure your colleagues are understanding, given the circumstances,” June said.
In fact, Charlie hadn’t told his colleagues. They might know about it, but the story hadn’t come from him. On Wednesday, having taken off Monday and Tuesday with a supposed stomach flu, Charlie had gone into the office of the senior partner and shut the door. “My wife was in a bad accident,” he said. “Someone ran a stop sign and plowed into her car. She’s all right, but a person in the other car didn’t make it.” He didn’t reveal that that person was a child. He omitted mention of the police station, the blood-alcohol content, the question of culpability.
“That’s terrible, Charles,” Bill Trieste had gasped, coming around his desk and putting a hand on Charlie’s shoulder. “Alison is all right, though?”
“All right. Shaken up.”
“Of course, of course. My God. I’m sure she’s needing your support right now.”
“We’ll get through it,” Charlie said automatically. Later he would reflect on his bland responses to expressions of sympathy. We’ll get through it. Would they? He wasn’t at all sure.
“If you need to take some time off, just let me know,” Bill said. “We can make arrangements for your accounts, if it comes to that.”
“No, no,” Charlie said hastily. The last thing he wanted was to be in the house all day, every day, with Alison. It was hard enough going home at night to face her—the weepy desperation in her eyes, her unspoken need for his absolution, as if he alone had the power to assuage her guilt. And the children, sensing her disconnection from them, were clingy and frantic. No, he didn’t want to take time off. He would hire Dolores