You’re a nice lady, and your kid is great. So, don’t fuck around.
The thought was not depressing. It was realistic and sobering. She felt the tick tock in her chest. And she remembered a line from one of her self-help books. One of the early ones that got her out of her horrible small town with a horrible small family.
We have this time. We have no other.
She knew that Friday nights would always be for her son Christopher.
But maybe Saturday nights could be for her.
She got up and went to the phone. After a moment, she dialed.
“Hello. Sheriff’s office,” the voice said.
“May I speak to the sheriff, please? It’s Kate Reese,” she said.
“One second, ma’am.”
She stood there, listening to the Muzak. The song was Blue Moon. After a moment, the phone clicked.
“Hello?” the sheriff said. “Everything okay, Mrs. Reese?”
“Yeah. Everything is fine,” she said.
She could hear him realize that she wasn’t calling for police work. His voice changed.
“Oh. Good. That’s good,” he said.
He waited.
“Yeah. So, look, uh…I don’t have work tonight,” she said.
“Me neither,” he said.
She waited. Be a man. Step up.
He did.
Chapter 23
You smell like going out.”
That’s what Christopher used to say when he was little. She would put on her red lipstick and little black dress. She would spray a cloud of perfume on her wrists and rub them together, making the cloud disappear. And her son would follow her around the apartment on his little feet and say, “You smell like going out.”
But he wasn’t there right now.
She opened her closet door and looked at her new dress for her new life. That afternoon, she decided that none of her old outfits fit anymore. Not her body. Not her life. The cutoffs. The tight dress. The trashy denim skirt. All of those belonged to the old Kate Reese. New Kate Reese might deserve a little better.
She still had savings with the lottery money. She couldn’t quit her job anytime soon, but this month’s mortgage was paid. The retirement accounts maxed, along with the college fund. Of course, she still felt guilty and wasteful like she always did when it came to spending money on herself. But this time, she decided to take a chance and see what it was like to splurge. Just a little.
So, right after work, she drove to the Grove City Outlet Mall.
After ten stores, one hot pretzel, and an iced tea, she finally found it. A designer dress. On the clearance rack. $600 retail that she could have for only $72.50. She couldn’t believe it. She went into the dressing room. It had a skinny mirror, thank God. She slipped off her work whites and slipped the dress over her frame. Then, she stopped when she saw herself in the mirror.
Oh, my God. That’s me.
She looked beautiful. She looked like she had never been mistreated in her life. She looked like men always called her back. And they were always kind. And her husband hadn’t quit on her. And she had never met Jerry.
She bought the dress and found the greatest pair of shoes on the clearance rack for $12.50.
That’s right. $12-fucking-50.
She celebrated in the food court with her favorite frozen yogurt. TCBY Strawberry. Then, she went home and spent the rest of the day feeling possible. At 7:30, she put the dress and shoes on. She studied herself in the full-length mirror. And even though it wasn’t as skinny as the store mirror, she didn’t mind admitting to herself.
She looked good.
When she drove to the restaurant to meet the sheriff (her idea—always good to have a getaway car), she decided she wasn’t going to talk at all about Jerry. How many first dates had she gone on since her husband died where the topic of conversation was the last bastard she dated? She thought she was getting a sympathetic ear. What she was actually doing was giving the next bastard a trail of bread crumbs as to how much shit she was willing to put up with for what grief convinced her was love.
But not with the sheriff. She would leave no more bread crumbs. No more tips as to how to mistreat her. Yes, he knew some facts about Jerry from the time Christopher went missing. But that’s all he knew. As far as he was concerned, she was a widow. Her late husband was kind and honest and treated her like women are treated in the movies. He didn’t need to hear the word suicide. And more importantly, she didn’t