evening.”
“When’s she leaving for Washington?”
“Couple of weeks.”
“Was moving something she planned or just. .
“You’d have to ask her that,” I said. “But I know it didn’t have
anything directly to do with you.”
“Directly,” she said. “What does that mean?”
“Her moving was personal, Cindy. Nothing to do with you or Cassie.”
“She’s a nice lady kind of. . . intense. But I liked her. I guess
she’ll be coming back for the trial.”
“Yes, she will.”
A citrus smell drifted over from the orange tree. White blossoms
dusted the grass at the tree’s base, fruit that would never be. She
opened her mouth to speak, but shielded her lips with her hand
instead.
I said, “You suspected him, didn’t you?”
“Me? I- Why do you say that?”
“The last couple of times we talked, before the arrest, I felt you
wanted to tell me something but were holding back. You just had that
same look now.”
“I- It really wasn’t suspicion. You just wonder-I started to wonder,
that’s all.”
She stared at the dirt. Kicked it again.
“When did you start wondering?” I said.
“I don’t know-it’s hard to remember. You think you know someone and
then things happen. . . . I don’t know.”
“You’re going to have to talk about all of it, eventually,” I said.
“For lawyers and policemen.”
“I know, I know and it scares me, believe me.”
I patted her shoulder. She moved away and hit the fence with her
back.
The boards vibrated.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I just don’t want to think about that now.
It’s just too…”
She looked down at the dirt again. It wasn’t until I saw the tears
drip from her face and dot the soil that I realized she was crying.
I reached out and held her. She resisted, then relented, leaning her
full weight against me.
“You think you know someone,” she said, between sobs.
“You think you- You think someone loves you and they’re. . . and
then.
. . your whole world falls apart. Everything you thought was real is
just . . . fake. Nothing- Everything’s wiped out. I . .
I .
I could feel her shaking.
Pausing for breath, she said “I” again.
“What is it, Cindy?”
“I- It’s. . Shaking her head. Her hair brushing against my face.
“It’s okay, Cindy. Tell me.”
“I should have- It didn’t make sense!”
“What didn’t?”
“The time- He was… hewas the one who found Chad. Iwas always the one
who got up when Chad cried or was sick. I was the mother-that was my
job. He never got up. But that night he did. I didn’t hear a
thing.
I couldn’t understand that. Why didn’t I hear a thing? Why? I always
heard when my babies cried. I was always getting up all the time and
letting him sle”p but this time I didn’t. I should have known!”
She punched my chest, growled, rubbed her head against my shirt as if
trying to grind her pain away.
“I should’ve known it was wrong when he came to get me and told me Chad
didn’t look good. Didn’t look good! He was blue! He was. . . I went
in and found him lying there-just lying there, not moving. His
color.
. . it was. . . all. . . It was wrong! He never was the one to get
up when they cried! It was wrong. It was wrong- I should have. . . I
should have known from the beginning! I could have. . . I..
“You couldn’t have,” I said. “No one could have known.”
“I’m theø mother! I should have!”
Tearing away from me, she kicked the fence, hard.
Kicked it again, even harder. Began slapping the boards with the flats
of her hands.
She said, “Ohhh! Oh, God, oh!” and kept striking out.
Redwood dust rained down on her.
She gave out a wail that pierced the heat. Pushed herself up against
the fence, as if trying to force herself through it.
I stood there, smelling oranges. Planning my words and my pauses and
my silences.
When I got back to the car, Robin had filled the board with designs and