The Accident

And what the hell was all that at the door when I came to get Kelly? Clearly, Ann didn’t know my daughter had a phone on her. Suppose Kelly hadn’t called me to come get her? What, exactly, would Ann have done next?

I thought about what I would say to Ann when I got her on the phone.

Don’t you ever pull that kind of shit with my daughter again.

Something like that.

If I called.

Even though my opinion of Sheila’s judgment had taken a nosedive in recent weeks, I couldn’t help but wonder how she’d handle this situation. After all, she and Ann were friends. Sheila always seemed to know, far better than I, how to handle a prickly situation, how to defuse a social time bomb. She was best at it with me. Once, after a guy in an Escalade cut me off on the Merritt Parkway, I’d sped after him, hoping to catch up and pull alongside so I could flip him the bird.

“Look in your rearview mirror,” Sheila said softly as I leaned on the accelerator.

“He’s in front of me, not behind me,” I said.

“Look in your rearview mirror,” she said again.

I thought, Shit, a cop’s tailing me. But when I looked in the mirror, what I saw was Kelly in her booster seat.

“If giving this guy the finger trumps your daughter’s safety, then by all means,” Sheila said.

My foot came off the gas.

Quite a wise approach from a woman who drove up the wrong ramp and killed herself and two others. The memories of that night did not square with those I had of Sheila as a calm, reasonable person. I thought I knew what her prevailing view of my current predicament would be.

Suppose I did get Ann Slocum on the phone and gave her a piece of my mind? I might get some satisfaction out of it. But what would the fallout be for Kelly? Would Emily’s mom turn her daughter against Kelly? Would it send Emily into the enemy camp at school, with the kids who called Kelly “Boozer the Loser”?

I emptied my glass and debated whether to go back upstairs for a refill. As I sat there, feeling the warmth spread through my body, the phone rang.

I grabbed the receiver. “Hello?”

“Glen? It’s Belinda.”

“Oh, hey, Belinda.” I glanced at the clock. Nearly ten.

“I know it’s late,” she said.

“That’s okay.”

“I was thinking I should give you a call. I don’t think I’ve even seen you since the funeral. I was feeling bad I hadn’t been in touch, but I wanted to give you your space, you know?”

“Sure.”

“How’s Kelly doing? Is she back at school?”

“She could be better. But she’ll get through this. We’ll get through this.”

“I know, I know, she’s such a terrific girl. I just… I just keep thinking about Sheila. I mean, I know she was only my friend, that your loss is so much greater, but it hurts, it just hurts so much.”

She sounded as though she might start to cry. I didn’t need this right now.

“I wish I could have seen her one last time,” she continued. What did she mean by that? That she wished she could have spent time with Sheila one more time before she died? “I guess, what with the car catching on fire…”

Oh. Belinda was referring to the closed casket. “They got the fire out before it took over the inside of the car. She wasn’t… touched.” I pushed away memories of the shattered glass sparkling in her hair, the blood…

“Right,” Belinda said. “I think I’d heard that, although I’d wondered, whether Sheila… you just don’t like to let your mind go there, thinking about how badly… I really don’t know how to say this.”

Why did she have to know whether Sheila was burned beyond recognition? Why on earth would she think I’d want to talk about this? This was how you comfort a man who’s just lost his wife? Ask whether there was anything left of her?

“I felt a closed casket was best. For Kelly.”

“Of course, of course, I can understand that.”

“It’s kind of late, Belinda, and-”

“This is very difficult, Glen, but Sheila’s purse… was it recovered?”

“Her purse? Yes, it was. I got it from the police.” They’d searched the bag, looking for evidence, receipts. Wondering where she’d bought the bottle of vodka they’d found, empty, in the car. They didn’t find anything.

“The thing is-this is so awkward, Glen-but the thing is, I’d given Sheila an envelope, and I was wondering-this is horrible, I shouldn’t even be asking you this…”

“Belinda.”

“I wondered if maybe it had been in her purse, that’s all.”

“I went through her belongings, Belinda. I didn’t notice any envelope.”

“A brown business envelope. Oversized, you know.”

“I didn’t see anything like that. What was in it?”

She hesitated. “I’m sorry?”

“I said, what was in it?”

“Um, there was a bit of cash in it. Sheila was going to pick up something for me next time she was in the city.”

“In the city? New York?”

“That’s right.”

“Sheila didn’t go into New York all that often.”

“I think she’d been planning a girls’ day out, a shopping trip, and there was something I was going to have her get for me.”

“I can’t see you missing out on a trip like that.”

Belinda laughed nervously. “Well, that week was pretty hectic for me and I didn’t think I was going to be able to make it.”

“How much was in the envelope?”