Effie swallowed bitterness. “Yes.”
The same house. It had passed to Andrews’s children when he went to prison, and as far as she knew, they’d never sold it. Nobody had ever seemed to be living in it anyway, whenever she drove past, which was only on the rarest of secretive occasions. It had always been empty, the grass a little too long, merchandisers littering the driveway. At Halloween, no local kids egged it or strung toilet paper in the trees. The house had gained its own reputation.
Dee coughed. “Well. It’s only a couple blocks away from where I live now. If he gets out on parole, he’ll be living there. So, you know, they put out this petition to sign so that there wouldn’t be a pedophile living there.”
“I don’t think you can keep him from moving back into a house that he owns,” Effie whispered through her clenched jaw. “No matter what he did.”
Dee was very quiet then, only the sound of her breathing coming through the phone. “I didn’t tell anyone Heath was your brother, Effie. I told them that Andrews made you and Heath call him Daddy, that’s all. And that’s the truth, right? I didn’t make it up. I wasn’t lying! They asked me, and it’s not like any of them lived around here when it happened. They don’t remember the stories.”
“Oh, God. Well, aren’t they lucky they have you to catch them up.” Effie swallowed again, her throat closing. All those women in their yoga pants and matching hairstyles, matching smiles. She’d never quite fit in with them, and now they all knew about her...this, the worst thing. But that wasn’t what upset her the most. “Look, when it affects my kid, Dee, I get really pissed.”
“I’m sorry,” Dee said after a minute. “They’re really worried about him getting out and living so close. That’s all.”
“He’s not going to get out of prison.” Bill had told her so, enough times, and all she could do was believe it or live every moment of her life waiting in dread for it to happen.
“Well, there was something on the internet...”
“Rumors about it go around every few years when he’s up for parole, but he won’t get out. He was served with two consecutive life terms for kidnapping, indecency, cruelty to children and a bunch of other stuff. He’s not getting out, not ever.” Effie laughed, harsh and sour. “Tell all your biddy friends not to worry so fucking much. And tell your kid to back off my kid.”
“I’ll talk to her,” Dee said.
Effie took a slow breath. “Thanks. I’d appreciate it.”
“Effie, if you want to come to our moms’ group...” The other woman trailed off.
Effie didn’t answer. The idea alarmed her. When Polly was younger and Effie had been struggling to get through school and working two jobs to make ends meet, she’d often eyed those put-together matchy-matchy moms in their playgroups with envy. Their fancy strollers and designer coffees. The way they all seemed to know how to keep their kids clean and dressed with what seemed like very little effort. There’d been days she swore finding two matching socks was a feat akin to Frodo’s journey to throw the ring into the volcano.
“So you can all talk shit about me to my face instead of behind my back? No, thanks.”
Dee sighed loudly. “I said I was sorry. They started to ask me questions. It’s not like any of this stuff can’t be found out on the internet. I mean, Effie, you make your living off it. Do you really think people don’t talk about it?”
Effie knew her work’s value lay in her past. She knew her story was public knowledge. She rubbed at the spot between her eyes. “Look, just...be more careful, okay? And tell your kid to back off.”
“She’s upset because her dad left,” Dee said after a second. “I know she’s been a pain to some of the other kids lately. She feels left out. Maybe if you could ask Polly to be a little nicer to her, you know, include her in some things...”
“You want me to have my kid befriend yours?” Effie frowned, thinking of all the little stories Polly had told her about Meredith’s bullying tactics.
“She used to have a lot of friends, and now she’s the outcast. She thinks they’re making fun of her because of her dad leaving.”
“It’s because she spreads rumors and makes fun of other kids.”
Dee coughed. “Girls like Polly... If she was nice to Meredith, the other kids would like her, too.”
Effie rolled her eyes. “I’m not sure that’s how it works, to be honest. Polly’s not the one being nasty, you know.”
“I know.”
This conversation had not gone at all the way Effie had imagined it would. Consequently, her righteous outrage was fading in the face of Dee’s apologies and pleas on behalf of her lonely, socially alienated daughter. “I’ll talk to Polly.”
“I’ll talk to Meredith. And, Effie...if you don’t want to join the moms’ group, maybe you’d like to grab coffee one day? Catch up? I’m really sorry, I never meant for anything to be hurtful. It got blown out of context. It’s easy to forget there’s a real person on the other side of the gossip. Let me make it up to you.”
“Sure,” Effie said, to her own surprise. “That sounds great.”
Dee sounded pleased. “Great. I’ll call you next week.”
They disconnected and Effie tucked her phone into her pocket. She went into Polly’s room to wish her good-night, only to find her daughter already asleep. Another rush of love washed over Effie, so strong it made her want to cry.
It was only later as she was falling into sleep that Effie jerked awake with that feeling of falling. She’d forgotten to call Mitchell. She twisted in her sheets to look at the clock. Too late now. He really wasn’t the one she wanted to talk to anyway, but although she tapped in Heath’s number, she deleted it before the call could connect.
Serving her father coffee, Effie feels incredibly grown-up but far from mature. Not even with the small bump of her belly sticking out from the front of her maternity dress. It’s a horrendously ugly outfit and does nothing to hide the pregnancy she and her father have not yet discussed.
He takes the coffee and sets it on the table to look at her. “You don’t have to stay here, you know that? Your mother...”
“She made herself very clear.” Effie sips from a glass of ice water, the only thing she can stomach right now.
Her father sighs. “She’s sorry about that.”
“I’m sure she is.” Effie shakes her head. “But I’m fine here. Really.”
“If that boy wants to step up and take responsibility,” her father begins but stops when Effie holds up a hand.
“This isn’t Heath’s baby. I told Mom that. But Heath is willing to let me live here. It’s my best option. And it will be fine. Good. It’s going to be great.” As always since she came home, there’s an awkward silence in the space where once she’d have called him Dad. She can’t bring herself to do it anymore. It’s not Daddy, but even so, the name is soured for her. It’s not as if she can suddenly start calling him Pop or something like that. So Effie doesn’t call her father anything, and it’s obvious and uncomfortable, but neither of them ever mention it.
“I know you think so.” Her father frowns. “I understand.”
Effie sighs, sounding very much as he had only moments before. “You don’t.”
“I’d like to,” her father says.
This