Page 85 of The Chaperones

“Jesus, poor Stella.” Ray runs his hand through his hair, trying to make sense of everything I’ve just told him.

“You really haven’t heard anything?”

“I waited out the rain in the bathroom. Then I needed to clear my head and ended up with the kayak guides. They like to party. I passed out pretty hard. I don’t even know whose tent I was in. I think it was a tent anyway.”

I stare at him, trying to understand how he’s missed everything. This is Ray. If he drank like he used to, nothing would have awoken him except time.

Ray runs his finger along my cut, causing me to wince. “Are you okay? Fuck, that must have been terrifying.”

“It was awful. I just . . . I ran. I was so scared, and instead of helping her, I took off.”

“You got help,” Ray insists. “You found people who could help her. That was the right thing to do.”

I can see in his face that this isn’t merely kindness. He really believes his words. Whether or not they’re true, I don’t deserve his sympathy.

“Ray—” I grab both his hands in mine. “I’m sorry. So, so sorry.”

“Why’d you do it?” His voice is surprisingly even and genuinely curious. So I do the only thing I can do, the thing I’ve been avoiding with myself for months. I tell him the truth.

“It sort of started? I guess I was surprised that I could. That she wanted to. It was so weird, and I wanted to see what would happen. I knew I was doing something wrong. I told myself it had nothing to do with us, but I knew it would hurt you. And I feel terrible for that because I think at some level I wanted to hurt you.”

I swoop one leg around the bench so I’m straddling it, angled toward my husband.

Ray picks at his cuticle. “I’m sorry too. I never should have slept with James. I fucked up first.”

“It’s not about that.” I take a deep breath. I’m relieved not to be stoned. If I were high, I wouldn’t have the courage to admit what I say next. “I’m not where I want to be in my career. And then there’s you. I’m so proud of you. It’s hard sometimes, though, being Raymond Zhao’s husband.”

“I never wanted you to be Raymond Zhao’s husband.”

“Easier that than a failed screenwriter.”

“You didn’t fail. You quit.”

Ray’s staring so insistently at me, I want to believe him. It was easier for our family when I let my career falter. When I became Raymond Zhao’s husband. He may not have wanted me to quit, but he never fought me when I volunteered to do pickup and drop-off, to chaperone every school trip. He never stopped me from attending Parents Organization meetings each month or from taking the kids to art and guitar classes. I chose all that, and I don’t regret it. I’ve gotten to be present for parts of my kids’ lives that so many parents don’t get to be. Although that’s been a gift, it’s also been an excuse. Because it’s hard being married to someone who has always been on the path up, who has only experienced temporary setbacks of his own making.

Ray laughs suddenly. “It’s very weird. Like really, really weird.” His laugh subsides, and he asks seriously, “Is this what you expected to happen?”

“What, Dave punching me on a school camping trip? Or Sofía walking in on Cassie giving me a blow job?” I hold my breath after I say this, waiting to see how Ray will respond. I can’t lie to him. I can’t let him know half the story.

Ray laughs again, his devilish cackle. “She didn’t.”

“Oh, she did.”

“Where were you?”

“Behind the Visitor Center. It was pretty awful, actually. Those grasses are scratchy.”

“I hope you checked for ticks.”

“Are there ticks here?”

“Probably. Jesus, C. Cassie? Really?”

“For what it’s worth, I ended it before all this. Cassie didn’t exactly take it well.”

Above us, a blue bird circles the camp. It’s small and lovely, and I wonder if it’s one of the ashy storm petrels the kayak guide told us about, the ones whose eggs the ravens steal, the seabirds that the biologists are trying to protect.

“You should take that space. In SoHo,” I say before I second-guess it. Ray startles, and I realize that he’s misunderstood me. “The boys will love New York, and this is a big opportunity for you. But we’re going to hire a nanny.” I take a deep breath and make it real. “I’ve been working on something. It’s . . . it’s rough, but it’s good. I can feel that it’s good.”