The Most Dangerous Thing - Laura Lippman [136]
Gwen will tell Sean things, too, when the time is right. That he shouldn’t confess to Vivian what happened here today because, in a way, it didn’t happen today. It happened a long time ago. Today was simply the resolution, a bill that came due. Her father might be right about this modern mania for honesty. It isn’t that we talk too much or talk too little, Gwen decides. It’s that most people choose an all-or-nothing approach. They speak of everything, or they speak of nothing. When we confess, it’s because we need to be absolved, and we don’t care how that affects others.
Yet Gwen decides she will unburden herself to Karl. She will tell him what she’s done, the stupid affair—and forever forgo her role as the perfect, put-upon spouse. She has wronged him in a way that obliterates every slight, every moment of inattention and neglect. Because he’s Karl, he won’t hold it over her head. He will forgive her eventually. He will forgive her, but he won’t ever forget. Sadness will move into their house, an invisible sibling for Annabelle, a quiet, sneaky child who will on occasion misbehave outrageously, if only to remind Gwen that she’s there. It will be hard. It will be worth it. Allowing one’s self to be forgiven is just as hard as forgiving. Harder in some ways. Because to be forgiven, one first has to admit to being at fault.
Mickey needs them. They need Mickey. They will never be five again. They won’t even be four. But there’s no doubt in Gwen’s mind that Go-Go would want them to take care of Mickey, that he wishes her no harm. Go-Go was the most generous of all of them.
Gwen goes to Mickey’s kitchen, pokes around, knowing she will find a stash somewhere. Yes, here are circus peanuts, candy Boston baked beans, and in honor of Easter, Peeps. She puts them on a plate and sets them in front of Mickey, urges her to eat, joins her. Tim and Sean also join in, although without much enthusiasm. It all goes down surprisingly well with bourbon.
Chapter Forty-two
Gwen went home.
We all went home. Gwen to Karl. Sean to Vivian. Tim to Arlene, although there was never any suspense about that. It’s not clear who told what to whom. We no longer share everything. But then—we haven’t shared everything for a long time. It’s possible we never shared everything.
Doris stays in the house on Sekots Lane, where she continues to entertain—or not entertain, depending on one’s perspective—all her grandchildren, including Go-Go’s daughters. There are even visits from Duncan, at Sean’s insistence, three-day weekends carved out of his crammed schedule. That is Sean’s newfound talent, being insistent with Vivian. Duncan has yet to reveal his college preference or his sexual preference, but Sean is trying to find a way to convey that he is comfortable with anything Duncan wants, or is.
Clem left his dream house and has taken up residence at an assisted-living facility in the D.C. suburbs, a mere thirty-five-minute drive from Gwen’s home, as close as many of the retirement communities Clem might have chosen on Baltimore’s north side. He has made a full recovery, although his hip aches on cold, sharp days. The Robison house has not yet sold, and Gwen agrees with Karl that it is wildly impractical for them. It is a unique property, to use the real estate parlance, waiting for a special buyer, someone who values trees, if not light, and a sense of isolation. A new Clem Robison.
We try to stay in touch. Of course Tim and Sean were always in touch, but now Gwen checks in with them from time to time, which is more than she used to do. They talk about their kids and their parents. These are dutiful conversations, full of pauses. If the subject of Go-Go comes up, it’s only in