And I would be left here, alone, with Liz. To watch as she continued her destruction. Maybe she would stop if we all moved away. If she really wanted to destroy our neighborhood, maybe the sacrifice of breaking up our friend group would be enough. She might come back and be the Liz I used to know. The friend that I loved, the kindhearted mother hen.

I shivered as another possibility entered my mind: Or maybe we would be at the bottom of that pit next, no matter what. Maybe she would find us no matter where we were.

CHAPTER
33

To a night out,” Mark said as he lifted the glass of prosecco in front of him from the table. We were out to dinner at the Winchester Golf & Tennis Club at his insistence. His parents had come over to watch the kids, even though I’d tried to protest. In the aftermath of the carnival, all I wanted to do was stay inside and wallow in my dark thoughts.

On top of everything else, I had received an email that morning from Monarch Hospice, politely informing me that I hadn’t gotten the social worker position. I read it and quickly deleted it, exorcising it from my inbox. It felt like one more devastation that summer, one more spindle removed from the wheel that represented my dreams. No job, no friends, what next?

I gave him a small smile and lifted my glass to his, clinking it, before I took a sip with my eyes closed. I appreciated his gesture, and I did need to get out, away from our house and all the chaos, but it was hard to forget about everything. After all, we were only a mile from our neighborhood.

I looked out over the golf course, at the sun slowly setting on the green horizon. It was a warm night, but there was a thickness in the air that promised a summer storm. The golf course was lit with solar lights along the path that wound back to the tree line. The patio was red brick and dotted with tables, decorated with LED lights overhead.

It was beautiful, and should have been the setting for a perfect evening.

I leaned forward and put my elbows on the table, determined to spend a nice date night with Mark. It had been so long since we’d had a quiet moment together, away from the kids, away from our friends, away from the darkness.

“Did I tell you what Jack said the other day?” I asked with a smile.

He leaned forward, relaxed, and shook his head.

“Well, I caught him staring at his forearms, looking strange, and I asked what was wrong, if he was hurt or needed ice. He said, ‘No, Mom. I was just looking at the chargers in my arms.’ ”

Mark said, “Chargers?”