Chapter Thirty
Jake went into his home office while Ryan took a shower and Pam escaped to her office down the hall, to make the phone calls that would end her becoming a federal judge. He flopped miserably into his desk chair and buried his face in his hands. He couldn’t think, he could only feel, and what he felt was abject misery. He didn’t see any way out of the situation, of his own making. He had wanted Pam to agree to keep their secret, and he’d gotten what he wished for, but it was only the lesser of two evils. He felt a creeping dread that it had only increased the pressure on all of them, tying their family together in a corrupt bargain, each one tethered to the other in a way that doomed them not to survive, but to sink.
Jake straightened up and tried to shake it off. He could hear Pam talking through their common wall, but he couldn’t make out the words she was saying, and he felt awful for her. She’d stormed out of Ryan’s room right after she announced her decision, and he hadn’t had a chance to talk to her alone or to say how sorry he was, again. He knew she’d unload on him later, saying all the things she couldn’t say in front of Ryan, and he hated being betwixt and between, living in that hell reserved for married people, who had to postpone their fights for not-in-front-of-the-kids. But no couples fought about things like this, ever.
Jake tried to focus and make himself do things, so he called Harold and instructed him to stop the line of credit and wire the $250K from their money market and savings account. Harold agreed, no questions asked, of course. Then Jake went online, plugged Andrew Voloshin into the search engine, and tried to find out more about him, but couldn’t. Voloshin wasn’t on Facebook or any of the other social-networking sites and belonged to no professional organizations or alumni groups. Jake felt too distracted to keep looking, much less to answer any emails from work, and when he heard Pam finally get off the phone, he rose, left his office, and went down the hall to hers, knocking gently on the door.
“Pam, can I come in?”
“Yes,” she answered, and Jake opened the door, not surprised to see her teary-eyed at her desk. Her eyes were puffy, her hair undone, and she held a crumpled Kleenex in her hand. She slumped in her chair, framed by the soft pink walls and the red-and-pink toile curtains. All the feminine appointments of her office reminded him there was still a girl inside his wife, and he knew her heart was broken.
“I’m so sorry, honey.” Jake started to come around the desk, but Pam stopped him with a hand, her soft features hardening.
“Don’t even think about it.”
“I’m sorry, I really am.” Jake stopped in front of her desk. “Are you okay?”
“Do I look okay?” Pam tossed the Kleenex in the wastebasket.
“What did you tell them?”
“That I wanted to spend more time with my family.” Pam chuckled, but it was without mirth. “I don’t know how you could do it, Jake, I really don’t. You’ve ruined everything, you know. You’ve ruined our lives. Above all, you’ve ruined Ryan’s life. He’s never going to be the same, ever. This secret, it will ruin him.”
“I’m sorry,” Jake said again, because she was right and it was all he could say.
“It’s such a joke,” Pam said, disgusted without batting an eye, though she never cursed. “You finally decide to pay attention to your family. You want to step back in and reestablish a relationship with your own son, your only son. So I say, like an idiot, go pick him up at the movie. And what do you do? You decide it would be a great idea if he drove the car!” Pam raised her voice, throwing up her hands. “What a great decision! Wasn’t that a great decision? Wasn’t that one of your greatest, all-time decisions ever?”
Jake didn’t reply. She needed to blow off steam, and he deserved every word.
“Fun Dad evidently is the last one to know that a father is supposed to be a parent, not a friend. It’s Parenting 101, but you didn’t get the memo. It’s every magazine article, or on every Dr. Phil or Oprah episode ever.” Pam scoffed. “That’s right, she went off the air, so it’s her fault. It’s Oprah’s fault! Because it’s not your fault, right, Jake? It can’t be! I have a son blaming himself, but really it’s your fault.”
“I admit it’s my fault. I know it’s my fault.”
“I know that, too, but that doesn’t do us any good, because Ryan doesn’t know it’s true. Ryan was properly brought up, by me I might add, which means that he has a conscience. He knows the difference between right and wrong, as do I. Only you don’t know the difference between right and wrong.”
Jake didn’t say anything. She was right, and there was nothing to say.
“You’ll never convince him of anything else, ever,” Pam said, louder. “Even though the law would apportion the lion’s share of the guilt to you, he’ll still feel guilty. And now he feels guilty because you would be the one to go to jail and not him. The kid can’t win!”
“I tried to explain it to him—”
“I don’t know who you are, frankly!” Pam jumped to her feet. “You leave a young girl on the road, dead? You crash your own car? You burn evidence? You lie to the police? You lie to Amy, and to Harold? You lie to me!” Pam snorted. “What a bunch of bull! You made me feel bad because I questioned you with Ryan! You made me feel like I was hurting your getting close to him! You backed me down, you manipulated me, and you lied to me every step of the way! I didn’t raise a liar, but I sure as hell married one!”
“Pam, I know, I’m sorry—” Jake said, then fell abruptly silent when the door opened and Ryan was standing there, his hair wet from the shower, dressed in his gray T-shirt and sweats.
“Mom.” Ryan stood in the threshold, his hand on the doorknob. His eyes were dry, and his forehead smooth and untroubled under bangs so wet they dripped on his shoulders, like raindrops. “You need to let it go now. Dad said he was sorry, and you need to get off his back.”
Jake’s mouth went dry. He knew Ryan was trying to help, but it would only upset Pam more if Ryan intervened and took Jake’s side. “Ryan, it’s okay—”
“Ryan, please, go.” Pam waved him out, agitated. “This is between your father and me. I’m sorry if you heard, but this is between us.”
“I disagree.” Ryan looked from her to Jake, oddly calm. “You were talking about the hit-and-run, and that’s not just between you guys.”
“Ryan, I—” Jake started to say, but Pam cut him off with a chop of her hand.
“Jake, why don’t you let me answer our son? Ryan was speaking to me and questioning what I was doing, and he deserves an answer from me, not you.”
“Fine,” Jake said, tense.
Pam continued sternly, “Ryan, in point of fact, we weren’t talking about the hit-and-run. We were talking about our relationship, about the importance of honesty in our relationship, in our marriage. So you see, it wasn’t something that includes you. It’s not the same issue.”
Ryan blinked, unusually unfazed. “Mom, you sound so much like a judge tonight. Why don’t you let it go? I think you’ve ridden Dad long enough.”
“I don’t.”
“I do.”
“Oh really?” Pam shot back, her tone sharpening. “Ryan, it’s not your place to tell me how to talk to my husband, even if he’s your father.”
“I can have an opinion.”
“No, actually, you can’t.”
“I can’t have an opinion?” Ryan snorted. “Are you serious right now?”
“Okay, you can have an opinion, but it’s not one I need to heed or even hear. You have no standing.”
Ryan pursed his lips. “Mom, why are you being such a hypocrite to Dad?”
“I’m not being a hypocrite!” Pam glared at Ryan. “How dare you say such a thing to me!”
“Mom, if you think honesty is so important in a marriage, then why don’t you tell Dad about Dr. Dave?”
Jake wasn’t sure he heard Ryan correctly, for a second.
“Ryan!” Pam barked, angry. “What are you talking about?”
Jake held his breath, betwixt and between again, knowing and not knowing.
Ryan gestured, grandly, toward Jake. “Go ahead, Mom. Tell Dad about Dr. Dave. Tell him the truth. I could tell him, but I want you to. I want to know if I was raised by a liar.”
Jake felt something give way inside his chest. He kept his eyes on Ryan, who stood motionless, because he couldn’t bring himself to look back at Pam. He didn’t want to know what she looked like right now, being confronted with an accusation. He didn’t want to see her deny it, or admit it. It had never occurred to him before, but as soon as it was given voice, he realized it couldn’t be otherwise. Because Ryan never lied, not until Jake had taught him to.
“Mom.” Ryan hesitated, evidently waiting for Pam to say something, but she didn’t. “Honesty is important in any relationship, isn’t it? What about your relationship to me? Why don’t you tell me what happened with Dr. Dave?”
“Nothing!” Pam said, but her tone didn’t sound as strong.
Jake still didn’t look at her.
“Nothing? Really, Mom?” Ryan grew preternaturally still. “Dr. Dave’s married, too, you know. So tell me, do you know the difference between right and wrong? Does he? Because I heard you on the phone with him, when you came to pick me up after practice. It was sophomore year, I forgot my French book and I had to go back inside, to my locker. Then I realized I had it with me, so I came around the corner and I heard you on the phone with Dr. Dave. I think it was Dr. Dave, but it was definitely somebody named Dave. Because you said, ‘I miss you, Dave. I love you.’”
Pam gasped.
Jake didn’t turn around. His body felt suddenly stiff, as if he were getting ready to absorb a blow, his muscles bracing for impact in a collision that had already occurred. It was his own personal hit-and-run, taking place not on Pike Road, but in his very home.
Ryan’s face fell, and he looked suddenly sad, but he didn’t cry. “Mom, you’re right. It isn’t my business. It’s more important that you explain it to Dad than to me.” Ryan faced Jake, with a heavy sigh. “Dad. I’m sorry. I thought you should know. Good night.” Ryan closed the door, leaving Jake facing the door, turned away from Pam.
“Jake,” Pam said hoarsely. “I can explain.”
Jake found himself walking stiffly to the door. He didn’t know why. He didn’t want to leave but he couldn’t stay.
“Jake,” Pam said, louder. “It’s over, it’s history. I ended it last year, before we went to counseling. It didn’t last that long, only six months. It was a symptom, and I knew it—”
Jake opened the door and walked out, not sure what came next. For the first time in his life, he didn’t have a plan.