Sunday, January 13
I bought Blake new windshield wipers for his SUV, made him a sandwich for the road, and he drove off for NMU. I looked at Tom. He was wiping tears off his cheeks. I squeezed him hard.
“Pull your snowboard gear together,” I told him. “We’re going to Snowbirds, remember?”
Tom disappeared in the basement and got his stuff. We took a few runs together then Tom and his friends rode off to the terrain park. I skied three more runs, went into the lodge, bought a cup of tea, and called Tracy.
“Ken’s wife shot herself in the head last Sunday!” Tracy said breathlessly. “Her funeral is tomorrow. This is the bitch who hooked my son on heroin. Scott has been in and out of halfway houses since. That bitch tried to sleep with him, too. She’s got a six-year-old son who was taken away from her by the DCFS. Her family blamed me for reporting her, but it turned out her brother did it. He was in charge of Amber’s money. Their family has money. Now she’s dead. Now Ken, my dear ex, has no money and he’s suddenly reaching out to our children. He didn’t care about them before, but they’re circling him now. They’re going to that bitch’s funeral. My daughter asked me to babysit so she could go. I told her no. I told her not to expect to be received well by Amber’s family.
“I’ve been helping Scott stay away from Ken and Amber, but now that sick son-of-a-bitch is reaching out to Scott through Amber’s Facebook page,” Tracy continued. “He sent Scott a message saying, ‘Where are you? I haven’t talked to you for a long time,’ and sent Scott the funeral information.”
“The wicked witch is dead,” I said.
Tracy started laughing.
“Guess we should be careful what we wish for,” I added.
Tracy laughed hard for several minutes.
I turned and noticed Laurel standing next to me. She had a funny look on her face. She was trying not to look at me as she put her helmet and gloves on the table.