The last secret_ a novel - Mary McGarry Morris [108]
“I know.” Her resigned sigh skims the surface, depthless, easily bored like her mother, who must have been thrilled to make their boat available whenever it was needed by Ken and Robin, whom they'd known forever, because, after all, she overheard Bibbi say once, “Poor Kenny, all he wants is to be happy,” little knowing it was an indictment of her.
“No, you don't. You don't have a clue. You think this is what comes next, don't you? You don't really want to work, you just want a position, something to tell people you do. Well, I'm sorry, Jess, but I have neither the time nor the patience to be holding your—”
A great sob erupts from Jessica. “You're firing me?”
“That's not what I said.” What she meant, though.
“It's, just … I have a hard time with details,” Jessica gasps through her tears. “A really hard time.”
“You do?” Nora says with a glance at the marked-up copy, her sarcasm going right over Jessica's head.
“The thing is, I have these, like, issues.” Her nose is running, but she makes no effort to wipe it. “Didn't Kenny tell you?”
Kenny. He's not sleeping with her now, is he? she wonders, pushing the tissue box across the desk. That'll be next, won't it? Younger women, daughters of their friends, friends of Chloe's. No. She's got to keep her head on straight. Tonight is their first family counseling session. She had a hard time talking Ken into it. Maybe this is why— Jessica Bond. “Issues. What kind of issues?”
“Learning problems. Like, disabilities?” she says.
“I'm sorry, Jess, I didn't know that.” Suspicion bleeds into guilt. For being such a bitch. For taking out her own problems on someone so vulnerable, and so annoying. Typical of Ken, dumping this on her, instead of being frank with Jessica.
“Basically, I'm just not … not … very good at anything,” she bawls.
The red light on her phone flashes.
“Oh. Oh, hon,” Nora says, ignoring it as she comes around the desk and puts her hand on Jessica's shoulder. “Come on, now. Look, don't worry. We'll work this out. There's—”
Hilda buzzes her. Nora grabs the phone. “Leave it on voice mail. I can't—”
“But it's the high school,” Hilda says in a rush. “Drew's sick and they need to speak to someone right away.”
Since when does it take two parents to pick up a sick kid?” Ken asks as they rush down the corridor.
“I know,” she says in a low voice as two reporters go by.
“I'm meeting Stephen and Clem in twenty minutes.”
“Call and reschedule.” She's racing toward the door.
“Why do I have to go? I don't get it.” He holds open the door for her.
“Because he's drunk,” she blurts. Outside now, she's finally able to repeat what the school nurse said. “He fell asleep in math, and when the teacher couldn't wake him up, he realized what it was.”
Drew is waiting in the nurse's office. Slumped, chin on his chest, he doesn't acknowledge their presence. Even with the window open the office reeks of booze.
“Hey, Ken,” the school nurse says, grinning.
Drew looks up, but Ken only nods. Apparently, Linda Raymond and Ken know each other, though Nora has only ever met her here before. Until Nora put her foot down, menstrual cramps had often been Chloe's ploy when she was unprepared for a test.
“What're you doing?” Ken demands, and Drew closes his eyes.
“I put down flu,” Linda Raymond says. “Better than being suspended.”
“Thanks, Linda. I appreciate that,” Ken says.
“Least I can do.” And with her brief shrug Nora knows a favor is being repaid, a job, maybe, or buried story. Connections, everywhere. Tentacles.
Leaving quickly is impossible. Drew is too unsteady. Their shameful procession moves slowly, between them a child they dare not let walk alone down corridors, stairs, through the heavy school doors, locked against intruders, mayhem, harm to their treasured children.
“Sorry,” he mumbles, staggering into Nora as they emerge into dazzling sunshine. Birds are singing. A girl and a boy pass them, carrying a narrow wooden bench.
“Hey!