That was before everything began to change.
As the summer wound down, Michael’s technology business lost its contract with the state’s economic development arm to design and support predictive marketing software. For three years, the contract had been the largest single source of revenue in Michael’s company; then, with a swipe of the governor’s pen, it became a victim of budget cuts. In the teeth of the recession, the loss opened up a hole that the company couldn’t fill. Michael began laying off software engineers, downsizing half of his workforce. Several of the ex-employees banded together to file a lawsuit over theft of intellectual property. Others formed a start-up to compete head-to-head. The business that had finally soared after years of struggle was now teetering on bankruptcy again. Keeping it alive had become a day-to-day obsession for Michael. His ego rose and fell with the company’s fortunes.
Slowly, the troubles at work moved home and then spread through the walls of their bedroom. Like ants.
Michael blamed Alison. He said she was the one who had changed. At first, she thought he was right and that the problem was in her head. She felt like a mad dog, driven crazy by a constant, yammering tone on a frequency only she could hear.
Then the carving knife disappeared. Then the first photo showed up in the newspaper.
“Mom, that hurts,” Evan complained.
Alison had taken hold of her son’s hand and begun squeezing it harder than she intended. Evan was the one lifeline to which she could hold right now. He was this sane, calm, sweet little rock. Except when he lied.
“I’m sorry,” she told him.
She parked in their driveway and let them both into the house. She tried to remain calm so Evan didn’t see that anything was wrong, even though she was hyperventilating. Inside, the silent tone in her ears grew so loud she wanted to press both hands against the sides of her skull. She needed to go upstairs. She needed to run.
“Why don’t you watch TV?” she suggested to Evan.
“Okay. Can I have some pretzels and a Hershey bar?”
“Sure.”
Alison waited until he was settled on the couch. He started with cartoons, but she knew he would look for scary movies when she was gone. Anything with monsters.
“I’ll be in my bedroom,” she told him.
“Okay.”
He didn’t care. He didn’t realize that she wanted to throw herself through the bay window and fall to the ground along with the glass.
Alison backed out of the room. The tears burst through the dam of her face. She ran upstairs and into her bedroom, where she tore open the closet door and ripped at the collection of clothes. She opened every dresser drawer, throwing intimates, shorts, pants, socks, and nylons onto the floor, making a messy pile. She yanked dresses, blouses, and coats off hangars. She emptied the shelves. When she was done, the closet was empty, and she stumbled into the bedroom again, sinking to the floor and collapsing sideways onto her shoulder. Her red hair spilled across her face.
It wasn’t there.
It was gone.
“Mom?”
Evan stood in the doorway. His eyes were wide, and for the first time in his young life, she saw a glimmer of fear on his face as he stared at his mother.
“Mom, what’s wrong?”
Alison smiled, but it must have been a twisted, horrifying smile. She couldn’t muster anything else. “I lost something,” she said.
“What?”
“A blouse. I lost a blouse.”
“Oh.”
Evan got down on his hands and knees on the bedroom floor. He pushed his glasses to the end of his nose and crawled on the carpet like a bloodhound.
“Evan, what are you doing?” Alison asked.
Her son raised his head and studied her seriously. “Looking for blood, Mom. I already told you. You have a spitting devil.”
“I’ll be late,” Michael told his wife in a monotone, without bothering to apologize. “I don’t know when I’ll be home.”
He didn’t expect Alison to protest, and she didn’t.
“I’m going to drop Evan at my sister’s place,” she replied. “I’ll catch a movie.”
“You don’t need to wait up.”
“I won’t.”
She hung up on him, as if they were nothing more than roommates coordinating schedules. More and more now, they both looked for ways to run away from each other.
Michael felt fury bubbling in his chest. He knew he had a problem with his temper, and he needed an outlet to drain the pressure. As a boy, he’d been a state championship swimmer in high school, famous for his vicious competitiveness. Back then, he could put his face down and slash at the water to work out his anger, but it was not the same at the gym, without the race, the timer, and the crowd.
Instead, he caught his wastebasket with the toe of his shoe and kicked it into the wall, showering the office with discarded papers. It didn’t help. The plastic bucket was indestructible. He got up in disgust with himself and began to gather the trash.
It was not supposed to be this way. This wasn’t the bargain he’d made. He’d worked hard and built a business from nothing; he’d met and wooed a beautiful woman; he’d fathered an amazing son; he’d built a mansion that was a symbol of everything he’d earned with his labor. Now he was watching his achievements slip through his fingers, taken for no reason and through no fault of his own. His life was being stolen.
He was angry.
“Bad day?”
Michael saw Sonia Kraft in the doorway of his office, with an amused smile on her lips as she watched him on his knees, picking up discarded papers. She was the company’s general counsel. In the wake of the recession, her job had become as frustrating as his own. She shored up the dike of his legal woes, battling litigation and renegotiating contracts, but water kept bursting through new holes. The struggle had made them partners and friends. Over her shoulder, he saw that the rest of the office was dark. They were alone at night, trying to keep the company afloat.
“They’re all bad,” he said, not hiding his bitterness.
“I’m sorry.”
He sat down again and leaned back with his feet on the desk and stared at the ceiling. Sonia took a chair opposite him and crossed her legs, dangling a high heel from her stockinged foot.
“Alison?” she asked.
Michael nodded.
“Still the same?”
“Worse,” he said.
“That’s the last thing you need now.”
“Tell me about it.”
“Anything I can do?” she asked.
“No, thanks.”
“Well, I’m here for you, Michael.”
He wasn’t blind to her meaning. He’d made a mistake by sharing his anger and loneliness with Sonia as his relationship with Alison disintegrated. It gave them a secret bond, and she’d made it clear that he could take it wherever he wanted. He was tempted. Sonia was young — barely thirty — although she was already as much a shark as any older lawyer and twice as smart. She wore above-the-knee skirts and was casual about her sexuality. Sex was a prize for smart people working hard, she said, and it didn’t need to be anything more than that.
If he wanted her, he could have her. He’d never cheated, but he’d fielded plenty of offers. What made it different was that he was watching his world fall apart, and Alison was suddenly a piece of the wreckage, rather than his partner. He needed a release, even if it was fleeting and meaningless.
Sonia stared at him as if she knew what he was thinking.
“I wish I could cheer you up,” she said, “but it hasn’t been a good day for me either.”